




ius&yitst', 


! f<tji*cil sSjCU^Sf li 1 -liZJl Idt '-' 

' > ‘+f~ t '’* f* : yif^jf-‘*'-^r T*?r^ -‘ “ry 

|4"« * •■ 4't ■" l|;4 jlf 


iVi j<j£ iCT?' iTCu 


t S ' Si ir< c r nnr«fi©*>c* qcr : 

5 * Sw&tft « - ?vSwj* 5 ^w«t r ^5&;- 

' • * * * 1 ■ i. « , » rft (* ) ; ."*.<« ■• >• v f p? r 

,f r>< • •# ‘ i* ** f f ‘ <*]*J-Tif » ^ 

/ j • j .52 r.q 4 f *J ircgPrj; 


S^if5;iv;?r” 


n mn iitcwjjc 

|Hffirtffi^jciior: 

' Vj* rv-'jil £ 4j j; 





&&& 






vAi*»ipj ?4 •' , , 
i‘> irJfW? ri^n'fVV? 


‘i^ *i; ; jl 


^■SJp<}^f‘rv j 




t • ^ T* : * :tT*i 
«-^- ^»»* ^ 


iWteC 




Sg 


_ -: : &» 

BCV* l£*£T ,fi^} *5 £ 5*7? '/»•< ‘Clffljlj I ; 

nr, V< , ^r- rv rFxfV&i * ** **■ 


SBC 


**€» 


es •/ > ;r.ijr, - . x ,. i r 


re '^r 

f- «jMfl|ui/k4 ». **-.p «•**•' r '*?*f *'?*« 


r • ■ .- -. . - 


-jii ’••■•■ 


%♦ .T 


i’« *j-*fr rTjT; 

Sggi f£*£g||£££ ’ l 


HHgTT^Tiirri 


Tg7i;<pfe *r -i ".V^r 

»- - t • > t > • ~ - '. •; Z. . 


CCl/i • A ♦Jt***41 

**S Jf4rA<C^A^'V«f*- M ; M'li 



sw< '*' 

. s ^%TJECOn ;s5t?v*- -• £■ 

t. J« -mUk - UH «VI| 

cownUvAS 



~ | 1 

GenCo 1 1 


S3 


SigteSSftE 

*<r nnts 




■ *l ^ » » V 7.."^ i-i . 

£§2 

^*T#j *3i T£?rV *>*.- . 1 .»"1' 


Li< •- M 

5333 




v :!ca!CCtc^rSl 


*P8g*fK£gi& 

iSt;< . ; v< ti%*A> 


-•*, Aj#. 4^ * *• * 


sssssw 



A 


T?irf7T2 



A 


TtJ? 



wJ*i*v* 

mci> 


yHJRW* v 


3.r4.-;;' 





t>*eir+rr -W • 


■cikSktsic 


r* j : V 

i»r*/L'.‘*--- l l'l!fr'*ifl' 

- .' ' ! •• ,‘JG. L KUui JTii , 




jU fjSrlyf J* rTffStff 

^2txiS5r*K*^r 





L> .•4,-iP ^-V 

S®P,*S-i4^St4« 


mSm^ 



, ...i -, 

i.iTfcT • v • wuuT 

i.-- 1 . * iS*all' i m i • 


£, |; 


tk*S : 

>.?4 n.1 L-4 i*»\{i>II|> 4» 1 


Z-. ..».*■ V 


«•**••-« --• • rt. »-• ^ *; -i •« fj»-»'- 

-4.4 ^*Vr5 


C£cOMt?c 




rBUeCCtfTC 



-kj****- l/ ' 4 ' '*'1 ■?.!?: 


«ruihxt^r*>C^ 0 : 

i-rt • • li?i i?E|3.'5»‘ ^Jtt»VCwVT4.' 

^ l*t;f 


r5»*-j 




kj«^f*rM%>vVf^4 





m 


l*j. 




SSjgSS^^gKgsg 




SS fl CL x ; xSV* ; *: - • 

. TIV vvi 'JV. ^ j • * ^ ■•' 








w 


Xu% 


MXVLA. 


IN WO 



pdi?ynr^ ‘ ' i ; ; Vdi* 


i« cg gggv i Ttfr i ft 

*v; «» 

^4*vjr4jp» 


H “ »E^ 


i i ».'»-\tW 

Jirj; Awl 


» 






tf IK 





ggnixSv^ 







Sv ;2»?5c^vi , w*5SSSfii.t2g5h agH^ 




•]iUIiL]j :r; 

rwu'fMV* •'*' 

eeeuow 

LTOC*-- . w4A 


J,vl| 


H 2 5fi 


ulfW- V v if L -* 1 p »rV, V ff 


O* 


v»*, * ■ 


SfiXil 


: ! •, » ' 

7WC4^ 






rci: 


CTy« - _ 






ro^rr-^'rAJC* :♦ iSj^r 


Vu.*v IirtUrwt?* nTOlWoXvwi' 












Class ~YZ 1(0 
Book 

> 5 " 

Copight'N 0 . 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 








Moth-er Bent Down to Me. 

(Page 7) 


BLACK BEAUTY 


CHICAGO 


In Words of One Syllable 


An Adaptation for the Little Folks of 
ANNA SEWELL’S 

H 

Autobiography of a Horse 

BY 

EDGAR LEE 


Illustrated by 

HARRY LAMBRIGHT MILLER 


THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 

AKRON, OHIO new 


39m 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

DEC 1 1905 

CcDyntrht Entry 

^Dec. 

CLASS /) XXc. No. 

/n*/ 2/ 

COPY B. 


Copyright, 1905. 
by 

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 


MADE BY 

THE WERNER COMPANY 
AKKON, OMIQ 


CON-TENTS 


CHAP-TER PAGE 

1 My Earl-y Home . . . 7 

2 A Kind Mas-ter 8 

3 “Just like kids’ ’ 10 

4 My Break-ing In 11 

5 Death of Rob Roy 14 

6 I Win a Race 17 

7 Gin-ger and Mer-ry-legs 20 

8 Long-ing for Lib-er-ty 23 

9 Gin-ger ’s Sto-ry 25 

10 The Cru-el Spurs 27 

11 Sir Ol-i-ver 29 

12 A Ri-ding Par-ty 31 

13 Gin-ger runs a-way 33 

14 Mer-ry-legs and his Play-mates 36 

15 Sir Ol-i-ver ’s Ex-pe-ri-ence ........ 38 

16 My Dog Friend . . . . j 39 

17 In Dan-ger 42 

18 A Sad Fare-well 45 

19 Cap-tain, The Old War Horse 47 

20 Saved by Dan-dy 52 

21 Fish-ing on Sun-day 53 

22 Filch-er is Pun-ished 56 

23 Smirk’s Care-less-ness . . . . 0 9 0 . . 59 


3 


4 


Contents 


CHAP-TER PAGE 

24 I Meet Friend Gin-ger ...» 60 

25 Good Dri-ver, Good Team 62 

26 Jer-ry Bar-ker’s Meth-ods 65 

27 A Dread-ful Ac-ci-dent . 67 

28 Sun-day for Best 69 

29 He Will Find a Way 70 

30 A New Pa-tron 72 

31 A Deed of Kind-ness 74 

32 Wait-ing in the Cold 77 

33 An-oth-er Mas-ter 80 

34 A Fa-mil-iar Voice . 81 

35 Nich-o-las Skin-ner 84 

36 Bro-ken Down at Last ......... 86 

37 A-mong the Crip-ples . 88 

38 Mr. Good and Wil-lie . 90 

39 A Dear Old Friend 92 

40 Home A-gain 94 


IL-LUS-TRA-TIONS 


PAGE 


Moth-er bent down to me Frontispiece 

I went so fast the ground seemed to slip from my feet . 17 

Then Merry-legs told me all 21 

Best of all to have Squire Gor-don ride on my back . . 23 

Gin-ger told us these things 27 

The brown dog was al-ways there 41 

I was glad to get in my stall 43 

Cap-tain, the old war horse 47 

“Why, call him ‘ Black Beau-ty,’ of course,” said Miss 

Helen 49 

It was cold and sleet-ing 77 

He just loves to be pet-ted 93 


o 


NOTE 


While some changes in characters and incidents have been 
made, this adaptation of “ Black Beauty” retains, in their 
entirety, the lessons of humanity to our dumb friends, so 
successfully taught in Anna Sewell’s “ Autobiography of a 
Horse.” It should prepare for greater enjoyment of the 
original when the Little Folks shall have become Grown-Ups. 


BLACK BEAUTY 


CHAPTER 1 

MY EARL-Y HOME 

I was born in May. My first home was a green field. At 
one end a pond ; grass grew down to its edge and shade trees 
were near. A tall hedge made a park of the field. 

At first I could not stand on my legs ; they shook with my 
weight. Moth-er bent down to me. She told me to be brave, 
that soon I would be strong and could walk as well as she, 
but I must try. 

“Move your left foot,” she said. Just a bit of a step I 
made, and my right hind-leg came too. It was all strange to 
me, but she held me up with her head and told me to keep 
right on. Then I took a step with my right fore-foot and 
my left hind-foot, and there I was! I could walk just like 
my moth-er. 

In the pond I could see things, the sky, the trees, a colt like 
me, a big horse like moth-er. My neck was too short to reach 
them with my nose; but I would touch them with my foot! 
I stuck it out at them — and splash it went in soft, cool stuff — 
the sky and all had gone. 

Ma said, “Oh you goose! that is to drink and to wash in, 
but you are too young to know.” 

Now I could see the sky and the clouds way up in the air. 
I did not know what to make of it ; I do not know yet, though 
1 am an old horse as I tell this sto-ry. 

At first my food was milk. Moth-er gave it to me. When 
my neck grew long, so I could touch my nose to the ground 

7 


8 


Black Beauty 


or the pond, she said I could have no more milk ; I must eat 
grass and drink from the pond. 

The first night I had grass for tea she said, “Now you will 
soon be a horse !” That made me proud. Next day my 
meals were all of nice, crisp, green grass. 

Soon my moth-er went far from me. A man took her to 
help him plow. But in six days she was back. Next day 
was her rest day, she said ; the six days were work days. For 
that I loved the Day of Rest. Then she could be with me, 
and she taught me much — not to bite or kick, but to be kind 
and do as I was bid. She made of me a good horse. 

I wish all men would do as on this farm where I was born. 
The folks went to church on the first day of the week, but 
they did not make a horse pull them there. They would walk 
to church on fine days, or in storms would stay home and 
read out of a big book and sing. Each horse should have this 
Day of Rest. Mr. Ev-ans and his folks were Friends; he 
said “thee” and “thou” and spoke in low tones. My moth-er 
said he was the same each day, as long as she had known him. 
Since I have left his farm, I have found few like him. I 
wish there were more who would let a horse rest one day in 
each week. 

CHAPTER 2 

A KIND MAS-TER 

I had friends to play with in the field ; some were colts like 
me, some were two-year-olds. It was so mild out of doors at 
night, we slept on the soft grass. Dick, the man who took 
care of us, said it would make us har-dy. Once a cold rain 
came in the night. When I woke up I thought I would 


Black Beauty 


9 


freeze; my legs were so stiff I could not walk at first. All 
my friends felt as did I. Oh, it was such a long night out 
in that rain ! 

At break of day we saw Mr. Ev-ans. He came to our field. 

“Poor colts !” he said, “you should have been in the horse 
barn!” He took me by the mane and led me; my friends 
came too. Dick met us. 

“The horse barn is the right place for these colts at night,” 
said Mr. Ev-ans. “How wouldst thou like to have slept out 
of doors last night?” 

“It will make them tough,” said Dick. 

“I fear thou hast a tough heart, if for that thou hast let 
these poor colts shake all night long,” he said. “Thou must 
take more care of them if thee would stay with me!” Then 
Mr. Ev-ans led us in-to the barn — how nice and warm it was — 
and there we slept each night. This shows how good a man 
he w r as to dumb brutes that may not speak to tell their pains ; 
can but moan or bear them in si-lence. I would like the boy 
or girl who reads this to think of these things. That is why 
I tell of my life, though I am but a horse. 

One day we did not go out of the barn. The ground was 
white; white specks came down from the sky; they stuck to 
Dick’s coat when he came in to us. I felt them with my 
nose; at first they were cold, then I could drink them. Such 
a strange thing! But of course I had much to learn, Rob 
Roy said, for I was yet a colt* 


10 


Black Beauty 


CHAPTER 3 
4 ‘just like kids’’ 

Rob Roy was a black horse ; he had a stall from which he 
could look at us in the barn ; he had known moth-er and her 
friends a long time. I liked him too, for he was like me — 
all black but one spot on his face. He was a hunt-er ; could 
run fast ; with a man on his back he could jump a high fence 
or wide ditch. They said when I grew up I could do those 
things too. 

Rob Roy said the white was snow that came in place of 
rain at times; that I should jump right out in it and play. 
It would do me good. I did as he said; all the colts came 
too. Such fun as we had in the snow ! 

Dick said we “were like a lot of kids.” Rob Roy said he 
meant young goats like Bil-ly Whisk-ers’ Kids. But one 
time Dick said to a boy, “Here, kid, do you want a ride?” 
And the boy got in the cart with him. So I guess Rob Roy 
did not know it all ! 

Now we had three meals a day. That was a change. Out 
in the fields I could take a bite of grass here, a bite there, 
could eat all day if I chose. In the barn we had one meal 
that Dick said was our cake; “but you can not eat your cake 
and have it too,” he said. We did not have it long; it was 
good and sweet; made of bran, ground oats and corn. Two 
of the meals were of stuff like brown strings. “Once it was 
grass,” said Rob Roy, “now it is hay.” 

I said “Hey! Do you call that dry stuff grass?” This 
made Rob Roy laugh a loud, hoarse laugh, but Dick asked, 
“Why say you neigh, Rob Roy?” 


Black Beauty 


11 


I tell of these things as they come to mind. This was when 
I was young. Now I am old; near twice ten years; know all 
a horse needs to know ; but those days in the barn ! I dream 
of them yet. 

When we were let out to play in the big yard, there were 
some colts that soon lost sight of fun, and would fight, bite 
and kick. I did not like that and would stand in a cor-ner 
and look on. 

One day mam-ma saw me as she came to the trough to 
drink. She said: “My child, they are good colts in their 
way ; they mean no harm, but you are wise to keep from them. 
They will be cart hors-es when they grow up, as their friends 
now are; will drudge through life like slaves; as colts they 
must be rough in their ways, stand kicks and bites, or they 
would die from blows they will get from men who will drive 
them. I feel sad for them, but we may not help them. If 
you should try to, you would soon be as rough and coarse 
as they. You have yet to see me bite or kick. I want you 
to be as I am, so when you grow up all will be your friends.” 

Mam-ma was wise : I thank her now for all she said that 
day. These rough colts did at last seem to be more kind in 
their play. Through me she may have taught them too. 


CHAPTER 4 

MY BREAK-ING IN’ 

Mr. Ev-ans came to see the colts two or three times a day. 
He made much of me; would stroke my face, pat my neck, 
rub my back and legs, lift up my feet. Then he would stand 
off, hold up his hand and say, “Come here, Nig; come here, 


12 


Black Beauty 


Dark-y.” He said I was black as pitch, dark as tar; the 
white spot on my face was like a star in the night. He would 
rub my coat with a cloth for an hour at a time. 

I was glad when one day a man came in with Mr. Ev-ans, 
who told Dick, Jack would take care of the colts and train 
them. “As the twig is bent so grows the tree,” said Mr. 
Ev-ans. “We must teach colts while they are young; it helps 
when you start to train them as three-year-olds. That is 
what Jack will do.” All the colts were glad; Dick did not 
seem to care much for us. 

At last we could play in the fields once more, and one day 
J ack took me to break in. How much that means to all colts ! 
I heard a man say he would break his boy’s will if it should 
kill him. But there was the law to stop him! For colts 
there is no law to save them from the men that break them 
in. Some act as if colts were made of stone. Jack had 
more sense. He knew a horse could think— and I have no 
fault to find with him. 

Some colts have told me of their tri-als at such a time. 
This is the way Sam Break-neck broke in a colt named Dol-ly. 
She was a dear little thing, one of my friends of the green 
field and horse barn. So kind was she each colt was her 
friend. We shed tears when she told us. 

“Sam led me by my mane to a big field. A lot of boys sat 
on the fence to laugh at me. A colt shies at strange sights. 
When I saw those boys I came to a halt. ‘Ah-ha,’ said Sam 
‘you would make trouble, would you? Wait till I get this 
on,’ and he took a black rope off the fence; it was like a big 
snake. First I knew he had it fast on my head ; in my mouth 
and round my nose. Pull? How he did pull! and how he 
hurt my nose and mouth ! 

“I did not know what he meant and I made up my mind 


Black Beauty 


13 


to get loose if I could. I stood on my liind legs; I struck 
at him with my fore-feet. All the boys made a great noise. 
How could I know what to do ? Then in some way he gave 
my head a jerk, my neck a twist, and down I fell on my side. 
Sam sat on my head. The boys came to us ; Sam told them 
what to do; soon my legs were fast in straps; more straps 
on my body. I could not move. Sam said I was 6 in the 
toils for sure. ’ I could not kick, I could not bite, for he kept 
his seat on my head. When he let me up he could pull me 
like a block of wood and push me as if I were a sheep. But 
just wait ! Some day I will break his leg by a kick ; run off 
and smash his cart!” 

And so the once good Dol-ly had been “ broke in” to be a 
“ brute of a horse.” She shies at a leaf in the road; runs off 
eve-ry day ; kicks and bites ; has no friends, and none but we 
colts know why. 

Jack was so kind to me, I did all I could to please him. 
He first taught that things would not hurt me; let me see 
and touch with my nose the straps, the shafts, the wheels. 
If I shook with fear at first, he would stroke my neck and 
face, speak to me, feed me. At last I knew, and when he 
put the bit in my mouth I stood still and held my head 
down. He made the bit warm for my mouth ; did not draw 
the straps too tight. “It would hurt your mouth if I did,” 
he said. 

Since those days I have seen so much pain giv-en, and felt 
it too, by the harsh way men strap us, and jerk on the bit, 
and saw our mouths. Some may not know the pain they 
cause us ; some may not care ; but they should know a horse 
can do more work when the bit or the straps do not hurt him. 

J ack did not put hoods on my eyes. He said a horse should 
see all ways at once. That a colt broke in to see on the road 


14 


Black Beauty 


as well as in the field was the best horse to drive. He was 
right. A horse that can not see back of him will be in fear 
if a small dog but dash past him ; how much more if a sharp 
noise is heard and he can not see the man who takes care of 
him at the reins. I have yet to shy, and on-ly once was I 
real-ly a-fraid. I know it is the clear sight of things I have 
that makes me brave. 


CHAPTER 5 

DEATH OF ROB ROY 

I was a three-year-old now. Jack said I should learn to 
race. He said I was built for a swift horse. He spoke with 
Mr. Ev-ans. 

“No horse of mine shall race for a prize, ” said he; “but 
if thou wouldst like to try Dark-y’s speed on the track, thou 
may’st take him some day to the course at Birt-wick and 
give him a test.” 

“But he must be a four-year-old,” said Jack. “A horse 
has not all his strength till he is that age. I have seen the 
lives of some good ones cut short by the race track, when 
young.” 

“I do not like the race track at all,” said Mr. Ev-ans. 
“Thee must not take my pet there, if thee will make a mere 
race horse of him, for men to bet on, and lose or win by chance. 
That is as bad as to rob. Men should earn wealth, not get it 
by chance; no horse of mine shall help them in that way.” 

All that year Jack drove me each day on the roads. Some 
days we went to Birt-wick track, when no one was there. 
How smooth and nice it felt to my feet ! I wore thin shoes. 


Black Beauty 


15 


Jack said a horse could dance in them. I could, hut the shafts 
of the light two- wheel cart held me in, and Jack would say, 
“Now, Nig, show your speed !” Off I would start, not too 
fast at first but soon I could not hold in. I just must fly 
through the air ; my feet would seem to skim the ground as 
a bird the pond. I could go twice a-round the track like 
that, but Jack would not let me. “Some day you may,” he 
said, “when it is not too warm or too cool and the track is 
just right.” 

There came a day in Pall when Mr. Ev-ans drove me to the 
track, Jack on foot by my side. The air was cool, the sky 
clear, the breeze brought scent of grass and leaves and rich 
earth. Birds were on the wing. Larks sang way up in the 
clouds. A brown hare ran in front of me. “Wait here a 
bit,” said Jack; and Mr. Ev-ans drove me up to the fence. 
Way off we heard, “Yo! yo-o-o! Yo! yo-o-o!” 

“ ’Tis the hounds,” said Jack, “they have the scent of the 
hare ; soon they will cross here.” 

Moth-er had told me how men would hunt on horse-back, 
and with dogs would chase the hare or the fox ; a horse or a 
man might be hurt, or worse ; they thought it grand sport to 
hunt the poor things. This was the first time I had seen a 
hunt. 

On came the hounds, close to the place where we were. The 
noise they made hurt my ears. Jack was at my head and 
spoke so kind-ly I lost my fear. Soon the hounds were 
through the fence and off. A brown horse with a man in a 
red coat leapt the top rail ; one, two, three more did the same. 
Then two came side by side, Rob Roy and a roan horse. The 
men did not stop to think ; Rob Roy did. He knew if both 
leapt at once both would fall; he drew one side; his mate 
went clear in a bound ; as she rose in the air she struck Rob 


.16 


Black Beauty 


Roy with her flank; he fell; his leg caught in the fence and 
down he came. The man on his back shot through the air; 
struck on his head, made no move. Rob Roy lay in the fence ; 
one leg was bent so strange. We could hear him moan. 

“Poor dumb brute,” said Mr. Ev-ans to Jack, “and that 
is what some call sport. I know not which to feel for most ; 
the man or the horse. God gives man the horse to do his 
will, to be a friend in work or play; just see what this man 
has brought him to. Rob Roy will be shot, the man may die 
in his bed, if he be not dead now.” 

They would not leave me to find out, if they had I should 
have gone wild with fear. All came so quick-ly they had not 
time to take me from the spot. Man and horse, they all came 
back to where the one lay. He did not moan: soon they took 
him home. Next day he was dead. Then came the sound 
of a gun from where lay my dear old friend, and then Rob 
Roy made no move. 

“A fine horse lost to please a fad; ‘sport’ they call it,” said 
Jack, “to chase with dogs a poor weak hare — to tear her limb 
from limb if they catch her; to race the horse to see her 
caught — why for my part I can see no sense in it.” 

“Nor I,” re-plied Mr. Ev-ans. “The man dies with an 
oath on his lips. ‘The horse threw me,’ he says to the Bright 
One who meets him at the Gates of the Sky.” 

“ ‘The horse but strove to do thy will,’ the Bright One will 
re-ply; ‘if thou hadst thus done God’s will thou wouldst not 
now be here.’ ” 

It was sad to think of Rob Roy’s death; I was glad when 
Mr. Ev-ans said he would drive home. I could not have 
made speed on the track that day, I know. 

A boy or girl must needs feel well in all ways to do their 
best. Grief makes one sick, same as does pain, though one 


Black Beauty 


17 


may not show it in the same way. It is so of a horse, as well. 
What I had seen that day made me sick at heart. We show 
in our eyes, or by our ears, if we are gay, or sad, or cross. 
Watch your own horse and you can tell. 

A great dull cart horse took Rob Roy from the road-side, 
but where to, I do not know. 


CHAPTER 6 

I WIN A RACE 



I WENT SO FAST THE GROUND SEEMED TO SLIP FROM MY FEET. 


In a few weeks Mr. Ev-ans and Jack took me to the track, 
but by a new road, so we did not pass that spot where Rob 



18 


Black Beauty 


Roy had fall-en. I was glad of that; when I got on the 
track I was in fine trim to go when Mr. Ev-ans gave me the 
word. J ack stood with watch in hand. Mr. Ev-ans knew how 
to drive as well as Jack. The reins drew the bit firm in my 
mouth, but gave room for me to reach out as I chose. A horse 
must do that to get his breath at times, when he speeds. It 
was as if Mr. Ev-ans had his hands on my nose or was right 
at my side. That is the way with the horse when the man 
knows how to drive him. For such a man we do our best 
at all times. I did it then. 

I went so fast the ground seemed to slip from my feet at 
times, but Mr. Ev-ans said, “Not too swift, my Dark-y, you 
will get there just as soon if you do not break; keep your 
pace, old boy.” Soon we came to where Jack stood, but I 
could not stop at once. “Whoa there, Nig! slow down, my 
pet,” said Mr. Ev-ans, and at last I could turn. 

“I said Nig could race ; he made the half mile in 1 :03,” said 
Jack. Mr. Ev-ans was glad, and at last told Jack to take me 
on the track at the big race next month, and try me each day 
till then. 

When the great day came, there were nine of us to start. 
Jack and I got off first, and were first all the way round; 
but we must do it twice, and one horse was close to us. I 
could hear him breathe as he came near. “How dare he try 
to pass me?” I thought. “Be brave,” called Jack, “and we 
will beat the field;” and I felt his hands stroke my nose, 
though he was not there. I could hard-ly see for the dust, 
but I knew there was room in front for me ; on I sped. Then 
such cheers! Such a noise! Men took Jack from the light 
cart; held him in the air; put a wreath on my neck and led 
me back to a stand where men made more noise. Mr. Ev-ans 
and Squire Gor-don came up; spoke with Jack; soon Mr. 


Black Beauty 


19 


Ev-ans said, “Yes, I will sell him to you, for I know you will 
not make a track horse of him. He is too good for such a 
life. I have told Jack he should not race for a prize; he has 
not, he will not if you own him, Squire.’ ’ 

And so I lost my good friend. But Jack came with me; 
was to be Mr. Gor-don ’s groom. Of that I was glad. 

Jack drove me to Gordon Park, in through the wide gate, 
up the lane through rows of great trees and beds of bright 
plants; then by a great house where Squire Gor-don, Mrs. 
Gor-don and Miss Hel-en stood on the porch. I thought what 
a fine place it is. 

“What a dear horse,” said Miss Hel-en, “what is his 
name?” 

“Mr. Ev-ans and I call him Nig or Dark-v, he is so black.” 

“Not nice at all,” said Squire Gor-don; “Mrs. Gor-don and 
Hel-en shall find a name to fit him.” 

“Such a pret-ty horse,” said Mrs. Gor-don as she came and 
stood near.’ “Such a bright, black coat he has! What did 
you say his name is?” 

“Want a new name,” said Mr. Gor-don, “don’t like the 
old one.” 

“Why, call him ‘ Black Beau-ty,’ of course,” said Miss 
Hel-en. 

So that was my name ; as Black Beau-ty I was to be known. 
But it did not make me proud. I knew I was just the same 
horse as when Jack said “Nig” or “Dark-y” to me — they are 
yet his pet names, and I like them too. 


20 


Black Beauty 


CHAPTER 7 

GIN-GER AND MER-RY-LEGS 

Squire Gor-don’s park was near the town of Birt-wick. To 
the town and past the race track Miss Hel-en drove me some 
days, on the track too if we had time, for she did love to drive 
fast, and I to go. But of my new home, I will tell. 

Such a fine horse barn! I had not seen one like it e-ven 
in my dreams. In it were four box stalls ; just like the room 
he had slept in when a boy, said Jack. A gate shut each 
horse in his stall. He could walk or stamp in it, swing his 
head, lie down and roll if he chose. It was a horse room, 
more than a stall, clean and light. Through the rails on top 
of the sides, I could see all that went on, same as in a field. 

In the stall on the left was a fat, gray, wee horse with a 
thick mane and long tail ; a small chap with a wise face and 
pert, black nose. 

“How do you do! My name is Black Beau-ty; what did 
you say was yours"?” 

“ I did not say, but I will. It is Mer-ry-legs — and they do 
say I have a glad heart. Miss Hel-en and her friends like 
to ride me; Mrs. Gor-don drives me some days to the low 
chaise. Is that to be your home in there ?” 

“It is,” said I. 

“Well, I hope you do not bite, or kick, or snore. I do not 
like a horse that does such things.” 

Just then a horse spoke from a stall next to my new friend’s, 
but the sides were high ; I could just see a head and neck. 

“So you have put me out of my old room. It is strange 
to give a new horse like you the home of an old friend like 
me.” 


Black Beauty 


21 


“A man put me here,” I said. “How could I help that? 
But I do not care to have words ; I wish to live at peace with 
all.” 

“We shall see, we shall see;” said the strange horse; “time 
will tell.” But I did not like the tone of voice and said no 
more. 



THEN MER-RY-LEGS TOLD ME ALL. 


“Her name is Gin-ger,” said Mer-ry-legs. “Miss Hel-en 
was in my stall one day; she gave me a lump of sug-ar. This 
roan mare did not like that, put her head through the rails 
and gave a snap at Miss Hel-en. 

“ ‘Oh, ho/ she said, ‘you like to snap; I shall call you Gin- 






22 Black Beauty 

ger.’ So that is her name now. When she goes out I will 
tell you more.” 

Soon a man came for Gin-ger. She bit at him, but soon 
he took her out. “Mr. Gor-don will give you a run that will 
take the snap out of you, I guess,” we heard him say. “He 
is off for a ten-mile ride and in haste to get back. You will 
have a chance to show him what you can do. ’ ’ 

“I wish Mr. Gor-don would try me,” I thought, “I guess 
I could beat Gin-ger.” 

Then Mer-ry-legs told me all. “The name ‘Gin-ger’ just 
suits her; she is full of two kinds of snap; the get-up-and- 
get snap, and the snarl-and-bite snap. Some say she is cross ; I 
say it is ‘nerves’ and the poor thing needs a long run each day 
to work off steam, as the groom calls it. She acts so strange 
at times, they do not care to drive her out ; hut I am sure if 
the groom or Mr. Gor-don would drive her or ride her far 
each day she would soon change. 

“One day when she was in your stall, she bit James on the 
arm till the blood came. That made Miss Hel-en a-fraid to 
come here for a long time, and so Gin-ger ’s act hurt me too. 
But she is a fine horse with all her ‘snap’ and you will come to 
like her yet.” 

“I think you are right as to what you say she needs. It is 
the same with a horse as with boys, girls too, I guess. Often 
have I known Jack, the man who came here with me, to send 
his boy to romp, or hoe the corn or chop wood, to get the 
snarls out of him, when he would be cross, and when Bob-by 
came back he would be fresh as a rose, his face all smiles. I 
would be cross too, if I stood all day in the stall.” 

When Gin-ger came in, her ears stood up straight; none 
would look for her to bite. The run had done her good. 


Black Beauty 


23 


CHAPTER 8 


LONG-ING FOR LIB-ER-TY 


J ack took me out each day. First he would comb and rub 
my coat till it shone like bright steel. Next he would jump 
on my back for a fast ride in the fields. Mr. Gor-don had 



BEST OF ALL TO HAVE SQUIRE GOR-DON RIDE ON MY BACK. 

said no horse of his should run in a race, but a fast horse was 
good to have for all that; so Jack kept up my speed by these 
runs through the fields. Soon we had a good track laid out 
and Mr. Gor-don and his friends would come and watch us. 
Mrs. Gor-don and Miss Hel-en found I had been well brought 



24 


Black Beauty 


up; well “broke in” Jack said, but I knew it was more than 
that. All my moth-er had taught me, all she had said to me, 
had been a help. It won me these good friends ; it made me 
proud to pull the chaise for them; but best of all to have 
Squire Gor-don ride on my back. Jack said he rode Black 
Beau-ty like a king, and I would dance for joy to see Gin-ger 
and Mer-ry-legs watch us go and come. The days at Gor- 
don Park were the best in my life. I wished that they might 
have had no end. 

Just one fault I found with my new home. In or out, I 
could not be free. Walls of the stall shut me in, straps and 
shafts held me out of doors. The cows and sheep in the fields, 
dull as they are, at least could feel they were free to go and 
come, in the sun’s rays, in the shade of trees. 

“I would like to be a cow for one day,” I told Mer-ry-legs. 

Gin-ger heard me. “Then you could toss me on your 
horns,” she said; “how nice that would be!” 

Mer-ry-legs spoke up. “You are wrong, Gin-ger. Why 
must you say mean things? Black Beau-ty is right. We do 
long to be free, just to know the joys of old times when a 
horse could run with his mates o-ver all the land; when the 
great big world was free to all. I am twelve years old; have 
heard strange tales of those days.- 

“Once a wild horse from the West spent some time at the 
park. He had the stall you are now in, Gin-ger. In the land 
of his birth, he said, they could roam at will in green fields, 
through woods ; no fence far as one could see, and had all the 
grass they could eat. Ho men with straps to tie them fast; 
no work to do at all. He wished he was there. 

“There was snow on the ground; it was real cold out of 
doors. ‘What did you do at such a time as this?’ I asked. 


Black Beauty 


25 


“ ‘In the woods we were out of the storms, but, of course, 
it was cold there; we had to crowd close to keep warm/ 

“ ‘And did you get good hay and oats and drink? What 
care did you get ? ’ 

“ ‘Now you speak of that we had but dry leaves, and for 
drink would lick the snow. But we were free. ’ 

“Then I said to Mr. Wild Horse: ‘No doubt it is fine to 
be free as you were ; hard for you to be shut in a stall. But 
one day of it would be all I should want, if James could not 
bring me food or drink, or take me home at night to my warm 
box-stall. ’ 

“But, of course, I am not a wild horse, nor are you, Black 
Beau-ty. Yet in the warm days of spring, I too look at the 
cows and pigs and sheep, and wish my life was as theirs — 
for a time. Miss Hel-en has let the reins hang loose, while 
I walk real slow, so she might get all the sun of such warm 
days ; and as I see these free ones of the farms and fields, I 
just stop and look and sigh to be free as they. Then she says : 
‘Wake up, old Mer-ry-legs; one might think you had all day 
to go a mile . 9 Miss Hel-en is so kind, I start off at a trot. 

“But I know how it is with you, Black Beau-ty,’’ con-clud- 
ed Mer-ry-legs; “we all have our dreams of days we knew 
not, but can feel in our bones. That is why we so love a wild 
run in the fields.” 

CHAPTER 9 
gin-ger’s sto-ry. 

Mer-ry-legs and I had seen a change in Gin-ger of late. 
She had been more kind to us; had made friends with James, 
did not lay back her ears or glare at Miss Hel-en when she 
came to pet us. We said not a word of this to Gin-ger; we 


26 


Black Beauty 


knew when the time came she would tell us all. On warm 
nights we slept in a small field near the bam. A brook ran 
through it, and there were trees here and there. It was too 
warm some nights to sleep ; then we would talk. 

“Mer-ry-legs,” said Gin-ger one night, “do you see a change 
in me?” 

“I do; and am glad of it.” 

“Would you like me to tell you how it has come to pass ?” 

We said “Yes!” 

It was too warm to sleep ; on a small knoll we got a nice 
breeze, but down near the brook, where we slept, the air was 
still. It was a real hot night. So we stood on the hill, while 
Gin-ger told us these things. 

“If I had been brought up as you two, I would have been 
as gen-tle and good. But when a colt, I had not one kind 
word; blows and kicks at all times. The farm-boy would 
strike me with the milk-pail, if I did not move out of his way ; 
if I would crow r d on the hay stack, the man would jab me 
with the pitch-fork ; boys threw stones at me to make me run, 
or set the dog on me. And I was but half fed. 

“When it came time to break me in, as they call it — ” 

“I think I know how it was done,” I said; “let me tell you 
of my friend Dol-ly.” 

“Just the way they did to me,” said Gin-ger, when I had 
told my sto-ry. “Now you know in part why I was so cross. 
But that was not all. I was a proud horse in those days ; I 
was born so. For a long time I would not move when they 
put the straps on me ; just stood and let them beat me as they 
would. One day a man said he would make me go, or kill me. 
He had a hard voice, a hard eye, a hard hand. He wore spurs 
on his boots. Do you know what they are ?” 

We had never heard of them. 


Black Beauty 


27 


CHAPTER 10 

THE CRU-EL SPURS 


4 ‘ Spurs,’ ’ said Gin-ger, “are small wheels of steel, with 
teeth-like edge, sharp as a pin. The man had one fast on each 
heel; he would jab them in my sides; I hope you may not 



GIN-GER TOLD US THESE THINGS. 


learn how they hurt. I was mad with pain. I stood on my 
hind legs, but he gave a jerk to the bit that brought me down; 
then a jab with the spurs and I ran like a wild horse. He 
would not let me stop, kept me on a run 6 till I should drop,’ 


28 


Black Beauty 


he said. At last he was worn out and got off my back. I was 
all foam and shook like a leaf. So stiff was I, I could get no 
sleep that night. 

“The next day he came back to 4 make an end of me/ he 
said. His eyes were red ; I think he was drunk, or mad with 
rage, much the same. As he came near I made a quick turn, 
threw down my head, and struck him square on his breast 
with both hind feet. He did not get up. I ran to the end of 
the field. Soon men came and took him. They said he was 
dead. They thought I had done it ; they were right. I did 
not know how else to save me from his spurs. He meant to 
kill me that day and God gave me my heels to kick with if I 
must. 

“They sold me then to a man who knew naught of what I 
had done. But he was kind ; he put salve on the spur wounds, 
on cuts the bit had made on my mouth ; I did not know what 
to make of it when he said, ‘Poor Las-sie, they were bad men 
to treat you thus. I shall train you by the voice, not the whip 
or spur. ’ 

His kind ways did me good ; it was not long ere I was like a 
new horse. He took care of me a long time. One day he 
sold me to Squire Gor-don. I have heard that once men sold 
men, as I was sold. That seems strange. If it is true I 
hope they were kind to them. 

“Mer-ry-legs knows when I came here. James took care 
of us. No groom hurts Mer-ry-legs; he is so cute and pert, 
they laugh at him. But I am lank, long and lean ; they seem 
to like to make sport of me. James did that; it made me 
cross, made me kick and bite. Then Jack came with Black 
Beau-ty; he helps James with me; he talks much with James. 

“One day Jack came to my stall and with a big brush and 
red paint put on the walls : 


Black Beauty 


29 


‘ BE KIND TO YOUR HORSE/ 

‘THE GOOD MAN IS GOOD TO HIS BEAST/ 

‘SPEAK TO A HORSE WHEN YOU GO NEAR 
HIM/ 

‘A HORSE HAS NERVES, SAME AS YOU/ 

“James said, ‘Good for you, Jack! Thank you / and now 
he treats me just like Jack would. That is why I do not bite 
or kick now.” 

“But you snore,” said Mer-ry-legs, “you woke me twice 
last night.” 

“ ’Tis full time to sleep,” I said. We all lay down, but first 
Gin-ger went a full rod off. “I must not wake up Mer-ry- 
legs,” she said. 

“Gin-ger is a new horse, sure,” said the wee one. 


CHAPTER 11 

SIR OL-I-YER 

A strange horse now came to the park. His name was Sir 
Ol-i-ver. He had the box stall next to Gin-ger ’s, too far for 
Mer-ry-legs to speak with him, and Gin-ger did not like him. 

“He is a stuck-up horse,” she said to us; “see how he holds 
his head when they drive him out ; his nose up in the air, his 
neck stiff. And look at his tail ! Short as the whisk-broom 
James flicks me with, to brush out hay-seed from my coat. 
Did he rub it off in his old stall, think you?” 

Gin-ger had strange thoughts about things, as Mer-ry-legs 
said. 

One bright day at noon, we were all in the field. The flies 
bit cruel-ly. “It will rain quite soon,” said Gin-ger. 


30 Black Beauty 

‘ 6 None too soon for me,” came a strange voice; “the flies 
drive me mad.” 

It was Sir Ol-i-ver. There he stood, a swarm of flies on his 
back, where he could not stamp them off, and no low branch 
of tree by which he could rub them from their dinner on his 
thin skin. He was in great pain. Mer-ry-legs, who stood 
by Sir Ol-i-ver, swung his tail, struck them fair, and for a 
while the brown horse was free of flies; but soon they were 
back. 

“Oh, the brutes that could dock my long tail and leave me 
no help in fly time!” 

“How and why did they do it^ I have not seen it in my 
time. ’ ’ 

“I have,” said Mer-ry-legs, “for when I was a colt, men 
cut the tail of each horse they kept for the hunt or drive. 
Since your day, Black Beau-ty, the law has made them stop ; 
but that is no help to the poor horse that lost his -fly-brush 
for a fad ” 

Sir Ol-i-ver now spoke to us: “You are kind,” he said 
to Mer-ry-legs; “no horse, great or small was yet so good to' 
me. They laugh at me, and make fun of me when the flies 
come. If they had gone through with all I did when I lost 
the fine long tail I had, they would not treat me so. But a 
horse is much like a man, I guess, few of them stop to think. 
When I was young they took me to a place where such things 
were done. Made me fast so I could not stir; with a sharp 
knife took off my tail, all but a stump. How it hurt as they 
dug through the joints! It bled of course, and with a red- 
hot iron they burnt the end to make it heal quickly. For days 
I was sick; when it got well they said I was a horse the swells 
would love to drive. Just what they meant by ‘the swells’ 
I do not know, but Mr. Dew-leigh who bought me, said I was 


Black Beauty 


31 


the best cob he knew of. I was a hack-horse then for a time ; 
now I am here. I do not know what for.” 

“Jack told James that Mr. Gor-don has a touch of the 
gout at times, and could not ride Gin-ger then, so he bought 
you to drive to the chaise; but you will wear a light net to 
keep off the flies ; he is too kind a man to see them bite you 
as they do now.” Thus spoke Mer-ry-legs, the good. 

“Wish I had the net now,” said poor Sir Ol-i-ver. But 
he did not tell us why he held his head so high. 


CHAPTER 12 

A RI-DING PAR-TY 

“Mr. Gor-don will drive Sir Ol-i-ver,” said Jack next day. 
“Mrs. Gor-don will ride Black Beau-ty, Miss Hel-en, Gin- 
ger, and a nice boy will ride Mer-ry-legs. Miss Hel-en says 
the wee chap is too small for her now, and I guess he will 
be a boy’s pet, for young Charles Doug-las is to live here 
with his aunt. He came from Lon-don last night.” 

“I will har-ness Sir Ol-i-ver and Gin-ger,” said James. 
“I know you like Mer-ry-legs and Black Beau-ty the best, 
and since you taught me how to treat her, Gin-ger does not 
bite me. I shall soon be as good a groom as you are, Jack.” 

“To be that, my friend, you but need to know that God 
gave these dumb brutes in-to our care; and that we should 
do to them as we would have them do to us, if we were brutes 
and they were men.” 

“Low-er your head,” said James to Sir Ol-i-ver, “you hold 
it too high.” 

Now while we may know much that is said to us by men, 
we can-not talk to them. Sir Ol-i-ver could not tell why he 


32 Black Beauty 

held his head so high ; he could on-ly low-er it till he felt the 
check-rein pull. 

“That rests me,” he said to us, and would have told us 
why he had held his head so high, but as we could not give 
heed to his words just then, Mer-ry-legs bade him wait till 
night, when we best could talk and hear all he had to say. 

Though his tail did look so short and queer, “just like 
the stub of a broom,” Mer-ry-legs said, Sir Ol-i-ver was ver-y 
fine in his black har-ness, set here and there with gold rings 
and hooks and buck-les, and Squire Gor-don was pleased with 
him. 

“You did well to put the net on him, James, it will help 
keep the flies from him. The white net on his rich brown 
coat looks well, does it not,” he said to Mrs. Gor-don who was 
on my back, “and as for you, my dear, you are like a queen 
on Black Beau-ty.” 

That made me glad ; for it was the first time Mrs. Gor-don 
had rid-den me ; her hand was so light on the rein, I did try 
to look my best, to step high, to prance a bit, just to show off; 
and she knew how to keep her seat in the sad-dle. 

When the horse and his ri-der are sure of each oth-er, they 
move as one ; it does not tire the horse, as when the ri-der leans 
first this way, then that way and seems a-bout to fall off. The 
horse does not know what to do, which way to go, and it frets 
him ; soon he is in a mood to run or balk, and that ri-der says, 
“Such a horse! I would as soon ride a goat.” All the time 
it is the fault of the ri-der, not the horse. 

But with Mrs. Gor-don, I could leap a fence or a ditch and 
know she would sit straight and move with me. That is the 
way to ride. 

Miss Hel-en was all smiles ; she spoke to Gin-ger as she did 
to Mer-ry-legs. The wee horse had told us how much Miss 


Black Beauty 


33 


Hel-en made of him, in their long rides. 

“She talks to me as though I were her friend,” he said. 


CHAPTER 13 

GIN-GER RUNS A- WAY 

Though Gin-ger was as qui-et as one could wish, there was 
a look in her eyes I did not like, and she did not keep her 
ears still. When a horse seems to be on the watch for strange 
things, mov-ing her ears back and forth in a quick, ner-vous 
way, it is well to look out for that horse ; and so I was glad 
when Mrs. Gor-don kept close to Miss Hel-en. I could keep 
an eye on Gin-ger. 

“What are those white lines on Sir Ol-i-ver? Why did 
they stripe him like that?” 

I told her what it was. She said she had not seen such a 
thing as a net on a horse in all her life. She seemed to think 
it was a sort of trap they had caught him in. 

Poor Gin-ger! Her nerves were weak that day. It is 
with a horse as with a boy or girl. If you let your mind run 
all sorts of ways, think of ten things at once, when you must 
be quick to move or speak you must first call in your mind, 
or you will act or speak wrong. 

A horse must keep his mind on his work, as you must on 
your tasks at school. Your book tells about a horse. The 
boy next to you, reads: “A horse will stop at the sound of 
‘Whoa!’ All this time your mind was out in the fields; you 
thought how nice it would be to play there in the bright sun. 
Then you hear, “Next boy spell ‘whoa.’ ” “ W-o-e,” you say; 
then your mind comes back, and you know it is a horse the 


34 Black Beauty 

book tells of, and the word is ‘w-h-o-a.’ But it is too late 
then. 

That was the way with Gin-ger. Her mind was not on her 
work. If it had been she would not have brought shame on 
her-self. 

Charles Doug-las on Mer-ry-legs rode by Squire Gor-don 
in the chaise. He had just told him how glad he was to be 
in the fresh air, for it was so stale in the big town ; and how 
much he thought of Mer-ry-legs — when of a sud-den a white 
hen, her wings spread out, ran out of a farm gate in a great 
hur-ry, and right un-der Gin-ger ’s feet; gave a squawk, and 
ran on. 

Gin-ger was think-ing about that net; the hen gave her a 
fright, and off she ran. We thought Miss Hel-en would stop 
her and wait for us. Then a gun was heard. Some boy had 
shot at a bird in the field, and Gin-ger ran with all her speed. 
Miss Hel-en did her best, but Gin-ger had the bit in her teeth 
and a strong man could not have held her. 

When a horse runs be-cause of fear, the more he runs, the 
more he fears. I have had such a horse tell me his heart beat 
so fast it sound-ed like thun-der to him ; it grew dark as night ; 
he could not see; the cart at his heels was like some wild 
beast be-hind him, and the shouts of men who would stop 
him were like great wolves to his ears. This poor horse 
ran straight in-to a thorn hedge and scratch-ed out both his 
eyes. Of course, he was blind with fright when he did that. 

When Mr. Gor-don saw that Gin-ger would not stop, he 
said, “You can catch her with Black Beau-ty, my dear; hurry 
now!” and not wait-ing for Mrs. Gor-don to speak, I was 
a-way. I could not feel her weight on my back at all, but I 
knew she had me well in hand, so I should not fall if I tripped 
on a stone or a rut in the road; and when she said, “Black 


Black Beauty 


35 


Beau-ty, you must catch up with that mad horse and save 
my Hel-en, or I will nev-er ride out a-gain,” I knew just 
what to do, and I did it. 

I thought, now I am on the race-track once more, and it is 
a race for a prize, and the prize is Miss Hel-en ’s life, and 
to save fool-ish Gin-ger from kill-ing her-self while she is 
blind. Never have I been a-ble to run as swift as I did in 
that race. Not a sound did I hear ex-cept the kind voice of 
Mrs. Gor-don, as she reached out and pat-ted my neck and 
said, “Do your best, Black Beau-ty; do your best!” 

Soon I drew close to Gin-ger; but she heard me and ran 
with great-er speed. Then she did seem to be blind, for she 
ran straight at a tree by the road-side. Miss Hel-en pulled 
hard on the right-hand rein to turn her from it ; but Gin-ger 
on-ly turned her head, not her bod-y. I was right at her 
heels now. Mrs. Gor-don knew just what to do. A light 
pull on my left rein and I sprang past Gin-ger, my full 
length, then a twitch on my right rein and now I was lean-ing 
on and crowd-ing Gin-ger a-way from the tree. There was 
just room to pass it, and not sweep Mrs. Gor-don from my 
back. 

“Quick!” she said to Miss Hel-en; and put her arm 
a-round her, and the next I knew had lift-ed her right off 
Gin-ger ’s back. Soon as I could I came to a stop, and both 
la-dies were off me and at my head. How they did pet and 
talk to me ! It was bet-ter than all the wreaths and noise of 
that race-track. 

A man caught Gin-ger and led her back to us by the time 
Mr. Gor-don and Charles came up. Gin-ger was sent with 
the man to the sta-ble, and Miss Hel-en rode home in the 
chaise with her fa-ther. 

You may be sure we had much to talk of in our stalls that 


36 


Black Beauty 


night. Next day Mr. Gor-don sent James to Birt-wick with 
or-ders to sell Gin-ger for what he could get. It was a long 
time be-fore I met her a-gain. 


CHAPTER 14 

MER-RY-LEGS AND HIS PLAY-MATES 

Mer-ry-legs did like to be with boys and girls. He seemed 
to think that as he was a wee horse him-self, all wee folks 
were his friends. Now that Gin-ger had gone, Sir Ol-i-ver 
and I made much of Mer-ry-legs, when we three were in the 
field. He told us all a-bout his yomig friends ; but if he saw 
Charles near the gate, he would trot a-way to him and leave 
us right in the mid-dle of a word. Charles Doug-las was 
kind to him, quite like Miss Hel-en, and Mer-ry-legs took 
care not to hurt him. 

One day some boy friends of his came to play with the wee 
horse as they all called him. Charles was not with them, 
but Mer-ry-legs was will-ing, and they took turns get-ting on 
his bare back. For a long time they kept the po-ny mov-ing, 
but the sun was hot and Mer-ry-legs want-ed to rest a while. 
Then these boys broke switch-es off a tree and be-gan to whip 
him. Mer-ry-legs stamped his feet and shook his head. This 
made them laugh. At last two got on his back, and one struck 
him with a switch. Then Mer-ry-legs put his nose down to 
the ground, gave a lit-tle hump to his fat back, sent his hind 
legs up in the air, and the boys rolled off o-ver his head. I 
think one of them hurt him-self a bit, for he went a-way cry- 
ing. Then the two were go-ing to pun-ish Mer-ry-legs, but 
he ran so fast they could not catch him ; at last he came to us 
and stood close to Sir Ol-i-ver. Though he was a gen-tle 


Black Beauty 


old horse, he looked so fierce with his bob tail, and his h&ad 
so high in the air, the boys kept a-way from the po-ny. 

As they were go-ing home, they met Charles and told him 
what Mer-ry-legs had done. Of course, they did not tell how 
cru-el they had been to him. 

Charles came to us, and Mer-ry-legs went right to him and 
put his nose in the boy’s hand. That w r as the way Mer-ry- 
legs said, “How do you do.” 

“What is this I hear about you?” asked Charles; then he 
saw the marks of the switch-es. “Oh-ho! I see how it was; 
you need not try to tell me; those boys shall not play with 
you again.” And they did not. 

“I thought you knew more than to throw the boys.” I 
knew he had done right, but want-ed to hear what he would 
say. “You did not treat Miss Hel-en or Charles like that.” 

“Of course not! I would not do such a thing for the best 
oats that ev-er came into the sta-ble. Why, I have al-ways 
been care-ful of chil-dren. When Miss Hel-en was a lit-tle 
child, it was I who taught her to ride. When she thought she 
would fall, and held my mane tight, I would go as slow as the 
old black cat, when she is aft-er a mouse. Nev-er once did 
Miss Hel-en slip off my back, nor did any of the nice boys 
and girls who came with her to learn to ride. They say I 
was the best ri-ding mas-ter the chil-dren could have. But 
as for those boys ! Why I just had to teach them a les-son. 
You saw how they treat-ed me, Sir Ol-i-ver, if Black Beau-ty 
did not. I could have run a-wav with them; I could have 
thrown them, so they would have gone through the air like 
birds and fall-en on their heads; but I just made them slide 
off ; if one is hurt, I am sor-ry, but it was not my fault. Now 
tell me, do you think I did wrong?” 

We told him he had done well, and that no one would find 


38 


Black Beauty 


fault with him. “And now, Sir Ol-i-ver,” said I, “will you 
not tell us why you hold your head so high? You do not 
seem at all proud, so there must be some oth-er cause for it.” 

“Once I heard James tell his son a-bout a boy named 
4 John-ny-Look-Up-In-The-Air.’ This boy looked up at the 
stars he could not reach, nev-er down at the earth, where he 
lived. One day he walked in-to a ca-nal and drowned.” 
Mer-ry-legs heard strange things from the chil-dren who were 
with him so much ; this was one of them. 


CHAPTER 15 
SIR ol-i-ver's ex-pe-ri-ence 

“Be-fore I came here,” said Sir Ol-i-ver, “men drove me 
with a tight check-rein. When the check-rein is loose, though 
a horse can not get his head down to the ground yet he can 
toss his head or look round be-fore he starts to see if the one 
who drives him is in the chaise. I heard one horse find fault 
with a loose check-rein, but he need-ed salt, and thought he 
might taste it in the dust at his feet. When a horse tries 
to lick the ground, then the groom should put a cake of rock 
salt in the feed box, for it is salt the horse wants. But a 
horse well ta-ken care of finds no fault with a loose check- 
rein that just holds the bit firm in his mouth. But at my 
old place I must hold my head high. The groom would 
short-en the strap, force my head up, then hook the rein to 
the sad-dle on my back. You know this sad-dle is held in 
place by a strap that runs back and loops un-der your tail. 
When a horse is checked high, it pulls this strap tight and 
hurts his tail as much as the bit hurts his mouth. I would 
dance with pain; the men did not care; they said it made a 


Black Beauty 


39 


fine turn-out. For hours at a time, I have been kept in such 
ag-o-ny, the foam would run from my mouth, my brown coat 
would shine with sweat ; and yet while I was in all this pain, 
men would stop and look at me and say, ‘What a fine look- 
ing horse! I nev-er saw a bet-ter one.’ 

“The mus-cles of my chest were pulled un-til they 
stretched; those on my neck and shoul-ders cramped in the 
ef-fort to hold up my head and ease the strain of the check- 
rein on the bit that cut my mouth; so that when the cru-el 
man sold me to Mr. Gor-don and I came here to live, my head 
was in the un-nat-u-ral po-si-tion you speak of, and it hurts 
all the time. I heard Jack tell James I would nev-er hold 
my head right, be-cause my neck had been strained by the 
tight check-rein. I am glad the boys and girls are be-ing 
taught kind-ness to us, so when they grow up they will care 
for us bet-ter than men do now.” 

“I am sor-ry I laughed at the way you hold your head,” 
said Mer-ry-legs, “I did not know.” Then he said “good- 
night” and soon we were sleep-ing. 


CHAPTER 16 

MY DOG FRIEND 

At Gor-don Park, we were ta-ken out each day for a run 
or drive. We were not kept in our stalls day aft-er day as 
are some I know of. A man should not keep a horse, if he 
can not take him out in the fields or on the road each day. 
It makes a horse old be-fore his time to keep him shut in all 
day long, not a thing to do but eat and think and stamp his 
feet. How would you boys and girls like to be shut in like 
that? 


40 


Black Beauty 


A horse likes to see things on the street ; it is as much fun 
for a horse to meet his friends on the road and see the men 
step out of his way as he trots by, as it is for chil-dren to go 
to the park to play. 

We have some friends a-mong the dogs, and they like us 
as we do them. Some of them would be with us all the time 
if they could, though they can not eat our food, must de-pend 
on a few bones from the house or on the groom for a good 
din-ner now and then. 

Once a dog makes friends with us, it is hard to keep him 
from the barn; he likes to sleep in the stall. Though you 
may not know it, he is good to the horse. Rats are in all 
barns ; at night they sneak out of their holes and come close 
to us when we sleep. I have had them wake me, tick-ling my 
nose with their whisk-ers as they sniffed at my face; and 
when it is real cold and they can not get much food, I have 
known them to bite my hoofs. They move with-out noise, 
and we do not know they are near us till we feel them creep- 
ing o-ver us. It is not nice. But rats dare not come near a 
horse when a dog is with him, and then the rats soon keep 
a- way from that barn. Rats came to our barn, but they were 
so cun-ning the men did not see them; they -were rude and 
bold at night. 

One day I stood wait-ing for Miss Hel-en to come out from 
a house, where she had gone to vis-it a sick friend ; I was tied 
at the gate. A brown dog came trot-ting a-cross the field. 
When he came to the gate he looked at the house, at the pha-e- 
ton, at me ; he wagged his tail, and stood on his hind legs to 
reach my head. 

“Is this your home?” he said. I told him. 

“I have had no home for a long time; my mas-ter has gone, 
I am all a-lone. May I go home with you?” 


( 


Black Beauty 41 

I said I would be glad if he did, for I was sure he would 
be wel-come there. Then he jumped in-to the chaise and sat 
there as if he owned it. But he had such kind eyes, no one 
would take him for a watch-dog. 

Soon a man came along ; I did not like his looks. He did 
not see the dog; no one was in sight at the house. “I think 



THE BROWN DOG WAS AL-WAYS THERE. 


I’ll ride the rest of the way,” he said, and com-ing to my 
head be-gan to un-tie me. Just then the dog sprang at him. 
You should have seen him run. The dog bit his heels to 
scare him, came back and got in-to the chaise again. 

Soon Miss Hel-en came out to go home. The dog was 
glad to see her, wagged his tail, jumped down and trot-ted 
by me all the way back. When Jack came to drive me to 


42 


Black Beauty 


the barn, the dog act-ed as if he had al-ways known him. Jack 
who loved all dumb brutes that are man ’s friends, made much 
of him, let him come with us to the barn, and there he made 
his home. But the dog would al-ways go with me when they 
took me out; no mat-ter who rode or drove me, the brown 
dog was al-ways there. Soon as they left the pha-e-ton, he 
would jump in and stay till they came back. Some-times 
he would get the seat all mud-dy, but J ack said it was worth 
a good deal to have such a watch-ful dog a-round, and would 
wash and clean the chaise each day. James said it was “a 
dan-dy good dog.” And so they called him “Dan-dy.” At 
night he slept in my stall, and the rats soon left us. Mer-ry- 
legs and Sir Ol-i-ver were glad. 


CHAPTER 17 

IN DAN-GER 

Mr. Gordon came to the barn one mom-ing, and told Jack 
to put me to the dog-cart; he had a long way to go, and Jack 
was to drive. “But tie Dan-dy, for I do not care to have 
him run so far.” He was always thought-ful like that. And 
in-deed it was well Dan-dy did not go. 

It was near sun-set when we start-ed for home, and Mr. 
Gor-don was in haste to be there. He said there was a road 
lead-ing through the woods that would cut off three or four 
miles of the trip, and point-ed it out to Jack. It was fast 
grow-ing dark, a storm was com-ing, but in the woods he 
took the reins for Jack did not know the way, nor did I, but 
I could feel the wheel-ruts with my feet. 

We could hear the winds in the trees ; it did not sound ver-y 
nice in the dark. Jack had lit the gig lamps but that did 


Black Beauty 


43 


not help me to see the ground; I walked quite slow-ly. Then 
we heard a crash, and down fell a great tree right a-cross the 
road not far a-head. 

“It is well Black Beau-ty was in no hur-ry,” said Mr. Gor- 
don, “or we might have been right un-der that tree. Now 



I WAS GLAD TO GET IN MY STALL. 


we must turn back to the old road.” When we reached it, 
though it was mud-dy and dark and the rain came down like 
sheets of wa-ter, I knew the way and could go fast. 

“I thought Black Beau-ty would run a-way when the tree 
fell, but he stood as qui-et as a lamb,” said Mr. Gor-don. 

“Ah, sir, you do not know that horse as I do! From a 


44 


Black Beauty 


colt lie was trained to trust the one who holds the reins. He 
was in a trem-ble when I reached his head ; had he been a-lone 
I am not sure what he would have done, but he knew the 
man at the reins would take care of him.” 

“That is a grand thought,’ ’ said my mas-ter, “it would be 
a great thing if men would trust God to guide them, as Black 
Beau-ty trust-ed me, would it not?” 

“In-deed it would; we would not oft-en go wrong then.” 

Now we came to a bridge cross-ing a small stream, but 
the rain had filled it a-bove the banks, and the wa-ter ran 
o-ver the bridge. 

As my feet splashed in it, I thought of the time I had tried 
to reach the sky in the mead-ow pond when I was a lit-tle 
colt. Then all of a sud-den, I knew the bridge was not safe. 
I can not tell how I knew this, but I was sure of it and 
stopped right there. 

“Come, come, Black Beau-ty, go on! There is on-ly a lit- 
tle wa-ter on the bridge,” said Mr. Gor-don. 

But noth-ing could make me move. Though he touched 
me sharp-ly with the whip and bade me go on, I stood still, 
as though I could see the dan-ger. Just then we saw a man 
swing-ing a lan-tern on the oth-er shore. 

“Stay back! Stay back!” he shout-ed, “the bridge has 
part-ed in the mid-dle; the wa-ter is deep.” 

It was late in the morn-ing of the next day when we 
reached Gor-don Park. I was glad to get in my stall and lie 
down to rest aft-er James had ta-ken care of me. Jack told 
him how I had saved their lives; but I had only done as I 
seemed bid-den. 

Dan-dy was hap-py to see me, but when he heard me tell 
Sir Ol-i-ver and Mer-ry-legs of the trip, he was glad Jack 
had kept him in the barn. 


Black Beauty 


45 


I have not told of each horse at Gor-don Park. Some 
were there but a few weeks, oth-ers w r ere with us all the time. 
Mer-ry-legs made friends with a few T , so did Gin-ger and Sir 
Ol-i-ver; and there were two or three I chat-ted with. But 
we four seemed to know each oth-er’s ways, we would meet 
and talk things ov-er, and w T hen Gin-ger was sent a-way, no 
horse took her place. I sup-pose it is with boys and girls as 
it is with us ; one may have man-y ac-quaint-an-ces, but few 
close friends. 

We had pleas-ant times at Gor-don Park. Jack and 
James were so good to us; we loved to have the Squire and 
Mrs. Gor-don and Miss Hel-en and Charles come to the stalls 
to see us, as they oft-en did. We would hear them com-ing and 
whin-ny to them, which is our way of say-ing, “How do you 
do ! Glad to see you ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER 18 

A SAD FARE- WELL 

Of late, Miss Hel-en had not come ; quite oft-en one of us 
had been ta-ken out by Jack to go for the doc-tor at Birt- 
wick, and now we heard him talk-ing to James about Miss 
Hel-en, and how the Doc-tor had said they must take her 
a-way from Eng-land. 

Mr. Gor-don came in-to the great barn one day, his head 
down as if he were ill. 

“I am sick at heart, ” he told Jack; “the Doc-tor says I 
can save Miss Hel-en ’s life on-ly by get-ting her a-way from 
this cli-mate. Of course, noth-ing shall hin-der me, and her 
moth-er and I will take her to It-a-ly, and keep her there 
some years. And so I wish you to ar-range to close the place. 


46 


Black Beauty 


Sell each horse, and I will help you and James to find a place 
to work. I can not speak too well of you as good men, al- 
ways faith-ful to your du-ties, and I am in-deed sor-ry to tell 
you this. To give up these dumb friends is al-so a grief to 
me ; but it can not be helped ; we may not take them, and all 
we do now must be for Miss Hel-en’s sake. You may tell 
James what I have said. We must leave with-in a week.” 

You may know how we felt o-ver this news. Here had 
been our home for more than three years, and we knew there 
were few like it. 

A horse nev-er for-gets a kind mas-ter. I have seen one 
watch a man who fed him ap-ples or sug-ar, as he passed 
him on the street ; it was not that he wanted more, but to rub 
his nose a-gainst his arm to show his thanks for these things. 
I know for I have done it my-self . 

How could we ev-er for-get this place where all had been 
kind to us, mas-ter and men ; and now we must leave it and 
these good friends. 

Per-haps you think a horse does not care for these things ; 
be-cause we can not speak in words you would know and tell 
how we like you when you treat us well; and the signs we 
make may fright-en you ; but a horse does not al-ways want 
to bite when he reach-es out his head to you. Indeed, it is 
true that we were all real sad the few days left us at Gor- 
don Park. 

Men came to see us for Mr. Gor-don had made it known 
we were to be sold. Sir Ol-i-ver was go-ing on a farm; 
Mer-ry-legs had been giv-en to a man who lived near by, and 
who had said he would take good care of Miss Hel-en’s pet 
and let Charles have him for his own when he came to see 
him. 


Black Beauty 


47 


A man I did not like had bought me, and I heard him tell 
James he kept a big sales sta-ble in the cit-y. 

That night, Mr. and Mrs. Gor-don and Miss Hel-en came 
to bid us good-bye. She cried when she pat-ted our necks 
for the last time. 


CHAPTER 19 



At day break I was led out of the barn, hitched to an old 
gig, and start-ed for my new home. 

Mr. York kept a large sta-ble in Lon-don and knew how 
a horse should be ta-ken care of ; to hear him or-der his men 
to do this or that for us, one would say he was a real lov-er of 


48 Black Beauty 

the horse. But all his care was be-cause we meant so much 
mon-ey to him. 

I have heard that a-cross the sea some of the peo-ple once 
owned men, as here in Eng-land they own the horse. These 
men were black and came from a land far a-way. They were 
sold and bought, just like a horse, and made to do hard work ; 
but if sick, were giv-en good care, be-cause they cost mon-ey, 
much more than is paid for a horse. So these black men, — 
they called them slaves, — were no more than dumb beasts in 
the eyes of their own-er, who, be-cause they had bought them 
with mon-ey, said they had a right to do with them as they 
chose. But half the peo-ple did not like that. They said: 
“God made all men free and e-qual, and no man has a right 
to buy or sell oth-er men.” And so at last there was a great 
war, and in the end the slaves were made free. 

I heard this story from Cap-tain, an old war horse, who 
was in that land at the time, and served in the ar-my. His 
mas-ter was one who fought to keep his slaves. Aft-er the 
war, he sold Cap-tain to a man who brought him to 
Eng-land. 

Cap-tain told me about the voy-age. 

“The ship rolled and pitched so I could hard-ly stand, and 
when once down in my nar-row stall it was hard to get up 
a-gain. So men swung me in a can-vas ham-mock, made 
the ends fast to the sides of the stall, and then I got some 
rest. 

“But that was noth-ing to the way they took me on and 
off the ship. They slipped a ham-mock un-der me, hooked 
it a-cross my back to the end of a great rope that swung down 
from the ship and shout-ed, ‘All right! Hoist a-way there!’ 
and of a sud-den I was dang-ling in the air. You can guess 
how it would feel. Your feet on noth-ing, your head hang- 



“Why, Call Him 


Black Beau-ty,’ of Course,” Said 
Miss Hel-en. 


(Page 19) 



Black Beauty 


51 


ing down, and you go-ing up, not know-ing where. It was 
hor-rid; some hors-es kicked and made it worse for them- 
selves. As for me I take things as they come, so I got a-long 
quite well. But I was glad when the ship reached land ; that 
is where a horse be-longs, not on the sea.” 

Well, it was Cap-tain who told me a-bout those slave men, 
and now I think a horse is oft-en just like a slave. The man 
who owns us feeds us well and does much for us, be-cause 
we cost him mon-ey and make mon-ey for him; and a horse 
that gets sick means mon-ey lost, with all it costs to cure him. 
But for the horse, no mat-ter how good or kind he is, that 
man cares not. It was so with the slave people. And now 
I was to be a slave. 

Mr. York did not hur-ry me; it was too far to drive in one 
day so he put up at a tav-ern on the road for the night. I 
had no fault to find with that ; but he said I must wear hoods 
on my eyes, blind-ers they are called. I did not like it at 
all; I had been a-ble to see on all sides, to see be-hind me 
as well as be-fore me. Oft-en when I have heard a strange 
noise and felt a-fraid, I could see it was on-ly an-other horse 
with a wag-on-load of i-ron or tin that made the noise, and 
would not hurt me ; as I could al-ways see such things I had 
no fear. But now I was tim-id on the city streets. A horse 
wants to see as well as his dri-ver. 

With the blind-ers on, how could I know my lit-tle friend 
the brown dog was trot-ting un-der the gig, right be-hind 
me? When Mr. York stop-ped to give me a drink at the 
road-side, there was Dan-dy! He took some of the cool 
wa-ter with me and said: “Did you think I would stay be- 
hind and lose my good friend? I shall go where you go, 
Black Beau-ty.” 


Black Beauty 


CHAPTER 20 

SAVED BY DAN-DY 

When we reached the tav-ern, Mr. York came to the stall 
and saw I was well fed ; but such a barn I had nev-er been in. 
It was all dirt, and I could not think of ly-ing down in the stall 
they gave me; so I slept light-ly, stand-ing on my feet; 
Dan-dy lay in a cor-ner un-der the feed-box. 

One of the men lit a ci-gar as they left the barn. I sup- 
pose he threw the match in the straw, for I had slept but a 
short time, when I heard a soft, crack-ling sound; then the 
barn filled with smoke, and there was a dread-ful light. 
Dan-dy was howl-ing and bark-ing at the top of his voice. 
Then he seemed to un-der-stand and ran from the barn. The 
smoke was so thick I could hard-ly breathe; we were all 
cough-ing and snort-ing with fear, pull-ing to get loose. 
Then men from the tav-ern came run-ning, led by Dan-dy, 
who came right to my stall, Mr. York with him. In a mo- 
ment he had me free and out-doors, be-f ore I knew the dread- 
ful thing that was hap-pen-ing. 

Out from the burn-ing barn they came; some dash-ing 
blind-ly in-to the night, run-ning against each oth-er in their 
fear ; oth-ers with cloths o-ver their heads, led by the grooms. 
The roar-ing flames caught some of the poor crea-tures; we 
could hear their shrieks of pain, but nev-er saw them a-gain. 
I do not know a more dread-ful sight than a burn-ing build- 
ing in which help-less brutes are tied, im-a-ble to es-cape. 

The men made much of Dan-dy; it was he who gave the 
a-larm and brought help. They want-ed to keep him, but Mr. 
York said such a know-ing dog should live right in his sta- 


Black Beauty 


53 


bles at Lon-don; and at day-light when we start-ed out, 
Dan-dy was in the gig with him. 

While I had no fault to find with the care I got in the 
sta-bles, I soon learned that few men know how to drive a 
horse. Most-ly I went out with a high wheeled gig, and as 
I was gen-tle, Mr. York would say, “This horse will bring 
you back all right, nev-er fear;” and so I had new dri-vers 
oft-en. 

Some would drive me as fast down hill as on the lev-el 
road, and give me no chance to rest by walk-ing up hill ; they 
would hold the reins tight and the whip over me, read-y to 
strike the mo-ment I would lag. They seemed proud to be 
seen out dri-ving, and want-ed to make a show. I think they 
had read a book called, “How to Drive a Horse, by a Man 
who Nev-er Owned a Horse. ” It is such who think they 
know the most. 

Then there were the dri-vers who let the reins rest on my 
back; if I tripped, let me fall or catch myself, and then 
switch me because I had frigh-tened them. 

But the worst of dri-vers are those who stop at sa-loons to 
drink, and leave the horse stand-ing in the hot sun or a 
storm, some-times for hours. In Lon-don they dare not do 
this, for soon a po-lice-man comes in aft-er them, and if the 
dri-ver is not so-ber he is ta-ken to jail and the horse cared 
for un-til the own-er comes. 


CHAPTER 21 

FISH-ING ON SITN-DAY 

I had no day of rest now; in-deed, on days when I heard 
the bells ring-ing, then I had long drives. Oft-en I thought 


54 


Black Beauty 


of Mr. Ev-ans and Squire Gor-don and how good they were 
to me. On such a day, two men hired me. “We want to 
spend a day in the fields ; per-haps fish in the riv-er ; but we 
will take good care of the horse and see that he has feed and 
wa-ter,” they told Mr. York. 

They drove me a long way out of the city. In the gig they 
had a bas-ket. They seemed to know how to drive, and I 
thought I had fall-en in-to good hands. I could not have 
wished for bet-ter care than I got on the way out, and was 
pleased to find Dan-dy trot-ting by me. He had got out of 
the sta-bles and wait-ed a-long the road for me. It was well 
for us all that he came. 

Soon we came to a gate, lead-ing in-to a mead-ow by the 
riv-er; the gate was just wide e-nough to let the gig pass 
through. They left it o-pen, led me un-der a tree, un- 
hitched me, took off the bri-dle, put on a halt-er so I could 
eat grass, tied me in the shade, and gave me some oats. 

Then they took the bas-ket to the riv-er bank and sat down 
by it. They did not try to fish. They had a lunch in the 
bas-ket and some black bot-tles they said were good bait ; but 
I guess it was for them, not the fish, for they had the bot-tles 
at their mouths quite oft-en, and now and then would throw 
one in-to the riv-er. Aft-er a while they rolled o-ver on the 
grass and lay still. 

A horse likes to drink, too, but he takes on-ly wa-ter, and 
it nev-er makes him sleep-y or cross; but as I was tied how 
could I get it? I tried to tell them I was thirst-y, but they 
could not hear. So I had to wait. 

It was dusk when they a-woke. Then they were in a 
hur-ry ; drank all there was left in the bot-tles, then came to 
the gig, to hitch up and get back to Lon-don. They did not 
seem to know half as much as they did in the morn-ing; 


Black Beauty 


55 


some-thing* was wrong with their feet ; they could hard-ly 
stand up. I helped all I could, and at last they had the bri-dle 
on me. Get-ting in-to the gig they start-ed me for the %ate. 
Then they be-gan to quar-rel; one want-ed to go back, the 
oth-er to go a-head ; one pulled on the reins, the oth-er struck 
me with the whip. I want-ed to go home, and so be-gan to 
trot a-cross the field, for I could see the o-pen gate. 

Sud-den-ly I knew the bit was not in my mouth; it hung 
un-der my chin. Now if it had been Miss Hel-en or Mr. 
Gor-don or Jack, an-y-one I knew who was driv-ing me, I 
would not have been frigh-tened, and in-deed most dri-vers 
would have known some-thing was wrong. But these men 
did not know any-thing; they were drunk. It was the first 
time a drunk-en man had tried to drive me. 

And now, find-ing I did not turn as quick-ly as he wished, 
one be-gan whip-ping me. I thought “ These men can-not 
take care of me. Then a pan-ic came o-ver me ; they might 
kill me if I did not es-cape, and whirl-ing a-round I start-ed 
on a run for the road. Un-guid-ed, and with the blind-ers 
on my eyes, I could not see how much space to give the 
wheels in the narrow gate. The next mo-ment, crash went a 
wheel a-gainst the post, and I was drag-ging the bro-ken gig. 
I can-not des-cribe the fear that came up-on me ; but I knew 
now just how poor Gin-ger felt the time she ran a-way with 
Miss Hel-en. 

Both men fell out of the gig, and were bad-ly hurt, but 
that was no fault of mine. On I dashed. 

I met sev-er-al teams and their dri-vers tried to stop me, 
shout-ing and hold-ing up their arms. I feared they, too, 
would beat me, and giv-ing their wag-ons plen-ty of room I 
sped on-ward, I knew not where. And now I be-gan to 
kick at the bro-ken gig that seemed to be pur-su-ing me. At 


56 Black Beauty 

last I was free, and ran on and on, un-til I tripped on a stone 
and fell ex-haust-ed. 

Before I could get on my feet, a man ran out from a gate 
and caught me by the bri-dle. He saw at once what was 
the trou-ble ; spoke kind-ly to me, and soon I was qui-et-ed. 
Then I was a-shamed of my-self. He put me in his barn, 
went back to the gig and pulled it out of the road, so teams 
would not run in-to it. 

It was now al-most dark. Dan-dy, who stood by the gig, 
be-gan pull-ing at his coat, draw-ing him the oth-er way. 
Get-ting a lan-tern he fol-lowed the dog to where we had 
come out of the mead-ow, found the men, had them ta-ken to 
a hos-pit-al, and from thence they were sent to jail and pun- 
ished for the mis-chief they had caused. 

Mr. York feared this ex-pe-ri-ence had made me un-safe 
to drive, and sent me to a horse-fair to be sold. He kept 
Dan-dy in my old stall, and I nev-er saw him a-gain. 


CHAPTER 22 

FILCH-ER IS PUN-ISHED 

At the fair were more hor-ses than I had ever seen to- 
gether; long strings of young an-i-mals fresh from the 
fields ; droves of shag-gv po-nies no tall-er than Mer-ry-legs ; 
hun-dreds of cart hor-ses, some with their long tails braid-ed 
and tied with bright ribbons; and a num-ber like my-self, 
hand-some and well bred, but now in the mid-dle class, be- 
cause of some de-fect or ac-ci-dent. There were al-so a great 
num-ber of poor things, bro-ken down by hard work, lame, 
bruised, de-ject-ed, un-der lip hang-ing down, look-ing as if 


Black Beauty 


57 


there were no more pleas-ure in life for them, and no more 
hope. Some were so thin you could see their ribs, and some 
had sores on their backs where the har-ness had rubbed and 
no care been giv-en by heed-less mas-ters. 

As I looked on these, I won-dered if I should ev-er be like 
them. Then I wished I might be bought by a man like my 
old mas-ters ; for in-deed I had thus far in life been treat-ed 
kind-ly. 

He who buys at a horse fair seems to think that e-ven the 
best look-ing horse has some hid-den fault or blem-ish, and 
so the bar-gain-ing moves slow-ly. The man who wants to 
sell must do much talk-ing to get a price near what he asks, 
and so there is much noise and ex-cite-ment, as they run or 
trot or walk each horse up and down the track. 

Now there was naught the mat-ter with me, save that I 
had run a-way as I have told ; yet all who looked at me were 
sure such a fine look-ing horse with-out a bruise must con- 
ceal some fault of tem-per or fear. At last a gen-tle-man 
who said he want-ed a horse to ride, as his doc-tor had or- 
dered him to take such ex-er-cise, gave a fair price for me 
and soon led me a-way. 

A sad-dle that fit-ted my back like a glove was put on me ; 
my new mas-ter mount-ed and rode me a-way. He soon 
found he had made a fine bar-gain and for my part I was 
pleased. He was con-sid-er-ate of me and told the groom 
to give me plen-ty of the best food ; that he would have oats, 
chopped feed, bran and the best of hay sent to the barn at 
once; and it came as he said. For some days I could not 
have been bet-ter fed; then while I had as much to eat, I 
did not feel so strong, for the groom was now giv-ing me a 
hand-ful of oats mixed with much bran, and how could I tell 
my mas-ter what I knew? 


58 


Black Beauty 


The groom’s name was Filch-er; the name fit-ted the man, 
for a filch-er is one who steals sly-ly in small a-mounts and 
this man was filch-ing my oats. He would bring his boy 
a-long in the morn-ing, take him in-to the feed room, fill a 
sack with oats and send him home with it. 

My new mas-ter was in poor health, a clerk in some dis- 
mal of-fice. He had bought me that he might get out in 
the bright fields and breathe the fresh air of woods and 
mead-ows and get the fine ex-er-cise of horse-back ri-ding. 
He took me out eve-ry aft-er-noon. He oft-en rode to see 
a farm-er friend who knew all a-bout the care of a horse. 

“Your horse seems to be fail-ing,” he said to Mr. Bar-ry, 
“do you feed him plen-ty of oats'?” 

“I get the best that mon-ey can buy, and tell the groom 
to feed him well. To-day he said I should or-der more oats 
as the bin was near-ly emp-ty.” 

The farm-er looked at me care-f ul-ly ; rubbed his hand o-ver 
my back and sides; then he said, “Mr. Bar-ry, are you sure 
your horse gets the oats?” My mas-ter gave me an eas-y 
ride home, and soon left the sta-ble with-out speak-ing to 
Filch-er. 

Next morn-ing the boy went out with oats but soon came 
back led by a po-lice-man, an-oth-er of-fi-cer car-ry-ing the 
bag of oats. 

“Where does this boy get the oats?” The groom stam- 
mered a re-ply; his fright was plain. The boy had con- 
fessed, and there was noth-ing for Filch-er but to go with the 
of-fi-cers. He was sent to jail for two months; the boy was 
giv-en in care of a tru-ant of-fi-cer. I do not know what 
be-came of him or his fath-er aft-er that. 


Black Beauty 


59 


CHAPTER 23 
smirk's care-less-ness 

Smirk was the name of the groom who took Filch-er’s 
place. There was al-ways a con-ceit-ed smile on his face. 
He thought him-self hand-some; spent much time brush-ing 
his hair and fix-ing his neck-tie be-fore a small mir-ror he 
hung in the har-ness room. He was so po-lite it was tire- 
some to hear him say, “Yes, sir; yes, sir,” and touch his 
cap at eve-ry word my mas-ter spoke to him. He was a 
la-zy fel-low, but took good care of me, and I was soon in 
fine health a-gain. Mas-ter had told him that when he could 
not come for me, Smirk could take me out in the pha-e-ton, 
but to see I came to no harm, and Smirk shuf-fled and 
smiled more than ev-er. 

Next morn-ing he took me to the black-smith’s. My shoes 
were wear-ing down, and a horse must be well shod to trot 
on the stone pave-ments. 

In-stead of stay-ing in the forge while the smith shod me, 
to see it was done right, Smirk went a- way, leav-ing the man 
to shoe me as he would. A horse can be quick-ly crip-pled 
by care-less shoe-ing. This black-smith put thick shoes on 
me, such as a cart-horse wears ; he pared my hoofs too much, 
that left them ten-der; and when put-ting on a front shoe, 
drove a nail in-to my foot. He quick-ly pulled it out, 
straight-ened it, drove it in the right place and the shoe was 
on. The pain was dread-ful. Of course, I limped, but he 
told Smirk the shoes were a bit too heav-y; they would soon 
wear light. 

If Smirk had thought of me in-stead of his own looks and 


60 


Black Beauty 


what the oth-er grooms thought of him, he would have made 
the smith take off the shoes and put on such as a sad-dle horse 
wears ; but he led me a-way with-out a word, took me to the 
sta-ble, and as my mas-ter did not come to ride, Smirk drove 
me out to the pha-e-ton. A la-dy and lit-tle girl rode with 
him. He point-ed out to them the great stores and mon-u- 
ments, man-sions and church-es that line the streets of Lon- 
don, but did not see how lame I was get-ting nor how clum-sy 
the thick shoes were on my feet. 

When we were a long way from the sta-ble, he turned to 
drive home and I heard the la-dy say he must hur-ry. He 
drove me fast, but was care-less how he held the reins. Sud- 
denly it was as if a knife had pierced my foot; I tripped 
and down I fell on my knees, stri-king one on a sharp stone. 

Smirk was at my head in a mo-ment; sorry for his care- 
less-ness when it was too late, got me on my feet and led me 
home, first mak-ing his friends leave the pha-e-ton. 

My knee was bad-ly cut and be-gan to swell ; Smirk sent for 
a vet-er-i-na-ry, a man who can doc-tor a horse, and next 
mom-ing the doc-tor sent for the black-smith, made him take 
off my shoes, and told Smirk how to poul-tice and bathe my 
knee; but it was some days be-fore they found how bad-ly 
my foot was hurt ; they thought all the pain was in the knee. 
It was more than a month be-fore I could be shod a-gain; 
though the light-est shoes were put on, I limped with that 
fore-foot; the doc-tor said I would al-ways be a bit lame. 

CHAPTER 24 

I MEET FRIEM) GIN-GER 

Mr. Bar-ry said he must sell me ; he would not ride a lame 
horse, and he bade Smirk put out a sign “A Horse For 


Black Beauty 


61 


Sale.” The doc-tor said it would be bet-ter if I could run 
on the sod a few weeks. “He can be sold from there as well 
as in the sta-ble; may-be will bring a higher price,” and so 
I was sent to Mr. Bar-ry’s friend who had told him to watch 
Filch-er. 

Mr. Grant put me in a field by my-self . It was lone-some 
for me, though nice to be in the fresh mild air of sum-mer, 
to walk in the soft green mead-ow, have all the grass I chose 
to eat, and be as free as when I was a colt. But in those 
days I was not lame as now. I thought of the poor an-i-mals 
I had seen at the horse fair, and knew I, too, like them, was 
go-ing down hill. And it was all the fault of a f ool-ish groom 
and a care-less black-smith. 

I won-dered who would be my next mas-ter. Just then 
Mr. Grant came to the field lead-ing my old friend Gin-ger. 
We knew each oth-er at once and whin-nied a greet-ing. She 
did not trot to meet me, nor did I move fast, but when we 
met in the mid-dle of the field, Mr. Grant saw we were not 
stran-gers. 

Gin-ger ’s fore-legs were quite stiff; it was pain-ful to see 
her walk. “Yes,” she said, “I am real lame, but they think 
I may be bet-ter if I rest a-while. If not, Mr. Grant said he 
could sell me for my own-er. 

“When I left Gor-don Park, I was bought by a farm-er, 
had good care if the work was hard. You see the work on a 
farm is not the same for a horse as on a gen-tle-man’s place, 
or in Lon-don. I would fret and strain at the plow, or when 
haul-ing hay from the fields, un-til my mate taught me to 
keep cool and not hur-ry; then I did my work with ease. 

“I was on this farm a long time, when the farm-er ’s son 
came to spend the sum-mer. He was a wild young man, 
had run a-way from home, been a wan-der-er and had 


62 


Black Beauty 


caused his fam-i-ly much trou-ble, but his fa-ther was glad 
to see him and did all he could to make his vis-it pleas-ant. 
A-mong oth-er things, he gave me to him for his own use. 

“This young man rode or drove me from morn-ing to night. 
He was cru-el as well as thought-less; would jump on my 
back and race a-long the roads, then home for din-ner and 
off a-gain in the gig. When spo-ken to a-bout the way he 
drove me, he said I be-longed to him and he would do with 
me as he pleased. 

“One day he start-ed out to see how far a horse could race 
in a day. When I be-gan to tire he kept me go-ing, un-til, 
quite ex-haust-ed and wet with sweat, I was read-y to drop. 
He stopped at a spring by the road-side, and let me drink all 
the wa-ter I could. How nice and cool it was! Then he 
drove me in-to a barn and left me while he went to the farm- 
house. When he came back to me, I was in great pain; 
sha-king with cold, tremb-ling in eve-ry limb. He was fright- 
ened and called to his friends. They said I was f oun-dered ; 
drink-ing cold wa-ter when so warm and tir-ed would kill a 
horse ; if I did not die, I would be a crip-ple. 

“He left me with his friends; they took care of me, kept 
me warm, had me stand with my fore-feet in a tub of hot 
mash, did all they could for me, but it left me as you see me 
now. I do not know what will be-come of me.” 


CHAPTER 25 

GOOD DRI-VER, GOOD TEAM 

I was sor-ry for poor Gin-ger, but said all I could to com- 
fort her. “You see I am not much bet-ter off my-self ; and 
yet I think we would make a good team with a good dri-ver.” 


Black Beauty 


63 


We both laughed at the thought, and soon Gin-ger was in a 
bet-ter hu-mor. I had spo-ken in jest, but did not know 
how soon it would come true. 

Next day there came a man with Mr. Grant and looked 
at us care-ful-ly. He felt my lame leg and rubbed Gin-ger ’s 
fore-legs. 

4 ‘ They would make a fair-ly good team for my hack; 111 
buy them if you can make the price right,’ ’ he said to Mr. 
Grant. Now our own-ers had no use for us; our care was 
cost-ing them mon-ey, and they had left it in Mr. Grant’s 
hands to make the best sale he could and let us go. 

Mr. Grant knew Jer-ry Bar-ker; had watched him for 
years while he worked as a hack-driver. Jer-ry was a so- 
ber, hon-est man, al-ways at hand when there was work to do. 
He was trust-ed by all who knew him and made mon-ey for 
his em-ploy-er. Peo-ple would wait for Jer-ry ’s cab, when 
they had time, be-cause he was al-ways pleas-ant and never 
had an ac-ci-dent. But now he and his wife, Pol-ly, had 
de-ter-mined it was time he should start for him-self. Both 
had been sa-ving the pen-nies for a long time. The pen-nies 
grew to shil-lings ; the shil-lings to pounds, un-til it had been 
pos-si-ble to buy a good hack and now a team was to be had. 
We were not sold that day, but next morning Jer-ry came 
a-gain and brought his wife with him. Pol-ly ad-vised him 
to buy us, and the bar-gain was closed. Farmer Grant had 
two more “pa-tients” as he called us, to bring from Lon- 
don, so we were hitched to his wag-on and Jer-ry drove us 
to the big town. The stay in the field had done us good, 
and I am sure there were worse look-ing teams met on the 
road. At Jer-ry ’s home, when we were in the stalls, Mr. 
Grant brought his team, hitched them to his wa-gon, and so 
drove back to his farm. 


64 


Black Beauty 


I nev-er knew a bet-ter man than my new mas-ter. He 
was kind and good, firm for the right and al-ways hap-py. 

A hack dri-ver has a hard life; those who hire him seem 
to think he is sure to cheat them ; they look on him as a rob- 
ber and oft-en a-buse him with-out rea-son. But Jer-ry Bar- 
ker was an hon-est man ; kind to his f am-i-ly and his team ; 
firm for the right, and al-ways hap-py he-cause he was good . 
He was fond of mating lit-tle ver-ses and sing-ing them 
to him-self. This is one: 

“Come, fa-ther and moth-er 

And sis-ter and broth-er, 

Come all of you, turn to 

And help one an-oth-er. ’ ’ 

And so they did. Har-ry helped do the sta-ble work; 
Pol-ly and Dol-ly would brush the cab and cush-ions, and 
rub the glass, while J er-ry was clean-ing us in the yard, and 
Har-ry rub-bing the har-ness. They laughed as they worked. 
Gin-ger and I would rath-er hear laugh-ing than scold-ing, 
you may be sure. 

They were up at sun-rise, for J er-ry would sing : 

“If you in the morn-ing 
Throw min-utes a- way, 

You can’t pick them up 
In the course of the day ; 

You may hur-ry, 

And scur-ry, 

And flur-ry, 

And wor-ry, 

You’ve lost them for-ev-er, 

For-ev-er and aye.” 


Black Beauty 


65 


CHAPTER 26 

JER-RY BAR-KER’S METH-ODS 

There was a place in the street where cab-men must stand 
with their teams wait-ing to be hir-ed. One day two young 
men came out of a tav-ern near-by and called Jer-ry. “Hi, 
Cab-by, look sharp! We are late for the train; do you put 
on steam and we will catch it. You shall have an ex-tra 
shil-ling.” 

“I’ll take you at the reg-u-lar pace, gen-tle-men; shil-lings 
do not pay for run-ning my team. You would not be late 
had you not stopped so long in the tav-ern. I nev-er hur-ry 
my team, un-less there is good rea-son.” 

Lar-ry’s cab was next to us. He flung o-pen the door, say- 
ing, “Take my cab, gen-tle-men. I will get you there all 
right,” and slash-ing at them, his ja-ded team set off on a run. 
Jer-ry pat-ted us; “A shil-ling would not pay us for that sort 
of thing, would it, my pets?” 

But he was al-ways glad to hur-ry when there was real 
need for speed. We were on the stand one morn-ing when 
a young man, car-ry-ing a large val-ise, trod on an or-ange 
peel and fell to the pave-ment with great force. J er-ry ran 
to him, lift-ed him up, helped him in-to a shop, for he was 
in great pain. Soon aft-er one of the shop-men called him 
and we drew up at the curb. The young man came out pale 
with pain, and limp-ing. 

“This fall has made me late, I fear, but I must take the 
noon train, if pos-si-ble. Can you get me there? I will 
glad-ly pay an ex-tra fare, if you do.” 

“If you think you can stand the ride, I will do my best,” 


66 


Black Beauty 


said Jer-ry; “get in-side, sir,” and the next mo-ment he gave 
a “chir-rup” Gin-ger and I well un-der-stood, and we were 
off at a good pace. 

To drive fast in streets crowd-ed with teams is hard work. 
We would have to creep a-long, un-til Jer-ry, see-ing a chance 
to pass some big truck, would give us a touch of the whip 
and we would spring a-head; we dare not halt an in-stant, 
for the next sec-ond the way would be blocked once more. 
Jer-ry was such a good dri-ver and we so quick to mind the 
reins, we would get by pla-ces where most teams dare not go. 
We had both learned to trust the man at the reins. Such a 
shout-ing and crack-ing of whips, when some care-less dri-ver 
would get his cart a-gainst an-oth-er’s wheel! but we were 
too old to be fright-ened by the noise. Some-times you would 
think our mas-ter was go-ing to drive us right through an- 
oth-er team ; then there would be a way for us, and we would 
hur-ry on. At last we reached the sta-tion and just in time. 
Jer-ry helped the young man with his lug-gage and would not 
take an ex-tra pen-ny. 

“I’m just glad to help you, sir,” he said. “I wish you a 
safe jour-ney.” 

At the stand the men made fun of him for dri-ving fast. 
“Thought you would not hur-ry for an ex-tra fare,” one said; 
“you preach at us for do-ing it, and then do it your-self. 
How much did you get?” 

“What he gave me will keep us in com-fort for some days, 
for the reg-u-lar fare is good pay. He of-fered me ten shil- 
lings ex-tra, but I would not take it. To see him so glad to 
catch the train was all I could wish. If Swift and Speed are 
wil-ling, and I choose to make a quick run, we please our- 
selves and not you.” 

“You’ll nev-er be a rich man,” said Lar-ry. 


Black Beauty 


67 


“I shall not be less hap-py for that. I have oft-en read my 
Bi-ble, but it no-where says, ‘Thou shalt be rich;’ and there 
are some things said a-bout rich men that would make me feel 
queer, if I were one of them.” 

“If you ev-er get rich,” said Bob, from the box of his cab, 
“you will de-serve it, J er-ry. As for Lar-ry, he will die poor ; 
he spends too much for whips. You do not wait to see if your 
team needs the whip, but tire your arm and wor-ry them 
each step they take. That is why you are al-ways chan-ging 
teams.” 

“I have not had good luck,” said Lar-ry, “that is the rea- 
son.” 

“You nev-er will. Good Luck is par-tic-u-lar who she rides 
with ; she pre-fers those who have com-mon sense and a good 
heart.” 

I have said our mas-ter spoke of us as Swift and Speed, 
that was be-cause he did not know our old names. Gin-ger 
he called Swift. He had not given us these names, ma-king 
sport of us because we were lame, though un-der his good 
care we im-proved fast, but be-cause we real-ly did move 
quick-ly in re-sponse to his “chir-rup” or a touch of the 
whip ; but, of course, Gin-ger and I knew each oth-er by our 
old names. 

CHAPTER 27 

A DREAD-FTTL AC-CI-DENT 

We oft-en spoke of the old times at Mr. Gor-don’s, nor did 
we for-get Mer-ry-legs and Sir Ol-i-ver. Some-times we won- 
dered what Sir Ol-i-ver would say if he should meet us in 
doub-le har-ness in Lon-don. Lit-tle did we think how we 
would meet him once more. 


68 


Black Beauty 


Mr. Bar-ker was dri-ving us one aft-er-noon to a house 
quite out of the cit-y, where he w T as to call and bring a la-dy 
to the train. The roads were fine and we were go-ing a-long 
quite fast. The road made a short turn just a-head, and 
J er-ry, care-ful of us, as he al-ways was, brought us down to 
a walk. It is hard to turn a horse quick-ly when he walks. 
Just as we got to the turn a butch-er’s cart came rat-tling 
up-on us. The horse was on a gal-lop, the boy who drove him 
was urg-ing him fas-ter. It hap-pened so quick-ly there was 
time for noth-ing. The horse and cart ran straight in-to us. 
By a jerk of the reins Jer-ry had me out of the way, but Gin- 
ger was pierced by one of the shafts, and dropped dead. The 
cart-horse fell in a heap, both fore-legs bro-ken, and the boy 
was thrown sev-er-al feet. My mas-ter was un-harmed but 
the shock made him ill for sev-er-al days. A great crowd 
soon gath-ered, help-ing J er-ry free me from my dead mate ; 
a po-lice-man ar-rest-ed the boy who had caused all the dam- 
age. 

When I had time to look at the butch-er’s horse, I was as- 
ton-ish-ed to see it was Sir Ol-i-ver. I spoke to him, but he 
was in such pain he could but moan, and say, “Oh, Black 
Beau-ty! To think it should come to this!” 

To end his suf-fer-ings the po-lice-man shot him, and I was 
glad he did, for it is dread-ful to see a horse in such ag-o-ny. 
My mas-ter drove me slow-ly home, and the first words that 
Pol-ly said were, “lam glad you are not hurt, my dear ! How 
good God is to us!” 

The po-lice made the butch-er pay for the dam-age done 
by his boy, and Jer-ry soon bought a new horse to take Gin- 
ger’s place; he al-so bought a light cab to which he would 
oft-en drive me, for by this time Mr. Bar-ker had reg-u-lar 
pat-rons ; busi-ness men to take to their of-fi-ces, la-dies go-ing 


Black Beauty 


69 


shop-ping; in-deed, he was now rare-ly seen on the hack- 
stand. Pol-ly was proud of her good hus-band, and as for 
Dol-ly and Har-ry, I nev-er saw bet-ter chil-dren. 


CHAPTER 28 

SUN-DAY FOR REST 

One eve-ning while J er-ry was put-ting us up for the night, 
a gen-tle-man came to the yard, nod-ded pleas-ant-ly to J er-ry 
and Mrs. Bar-ker, looked at me and my new mate and said : 

“Mrs. Briggs is much pleased with the ser-vice you give 
her ; she says she feels quite safe when you take her out, Jer-ry, 
and I want you to drive her to church eve-ry Sun-day aft-er 
this. It is too far for her to walk, since we moved to the 
new home, so you can call for her at ten o ’-clock next Sun- 
day morn-ing. We will pay you well for the ser-vice and she 
will com-mend you to her friends ; that will mean lots of new 
busi-ness for you,” and he seemed to think he was do-ing 
J er-ry a great f a-vor. 

“Mr. Briggs,” said Jer-ry, “I have been a hack dri-ver 
more than thir-ty years; but in all that time I have worked 
six days a week and rest-ed on the sev-enth day as God com- 
mands. I have made a good liv-ing for my f am-i-ly ; I shall 
not be-gin now to do work on Sun-day.” 

“Tut, tut, tut,” said Mr. Briggs, “I think you are fool-ish 
to quar-rel with your bread and but-ter. It will be but a 
two hours’ trip for you to drive her to and from church; it 
will not be hard for your horse, and you will make good 
mon-ey. Mrs. Briggs is set on hav-ing you take her, and — ” 

“Mr. Briggs,” said Jer-ry, not wait-ing for him to fin-ish, 
“mon-ey made by Sun-day work brings a curse with it, to 


70 


Black Beauty 


my way of think-ing. I know there are plen-ty who do not 
think as I do; it is not for me to judge them; but for my-self 
you have my an-swer. I will not do Sun-day work; I can- 
not come for Mrs. Briggs as you wish.” 

“All right, Jer-ry, I can-not force you to come, but there 
are oth-er cab-men who will be glad of the work Sun-day, 
and on week-days, too.” Then he walked out of the yard. 

There was an anx-ious look in Pol-ly’s eyes while the men 
were talk-ing. When Mr. Briggs had gone she came to 
Jer-ry, put her arm a-round his neck and said: “I am proud 
of you, my hus-band. We may lose some good cus-tom-ers 
by this, but we will work all the hard-er and find new ones. 
You spoke my wish-es as well as your own.” 

CHAPTER 29 

HE WILL FIND A WAY 

For a few days my mas-ter had all the work he could do, 
though no calls came from Mrs. Briggs ; but soon there came 
a change and there was noth-ing to do but go back to the cab 
stand and wait for or-ders. 

Mr. Briggs was an-gry with Jer-ry, in-sist-ed that Mrs. 
Briggs should call cab-men that were will-ing to work when 
want-ed, and told his friends of Jer-ry ’s “no-tions.” “If the 
fel-low thinks he is too good to drive my wife to church on 
Sun-day, I think she’s too good for him to drive her out on 
week-days.” Man-y of Mr. Briggs’ friends thought the 
same, and sent oth-er cab-men when their la-dies would ride 
out ; so that bus-iness was soon dull for poor J er-ry. 

“It seems as if I must do Sun-day work, if we are to live,” 
said Jer-ry to Pol-ly, as she and the chil-dren met him 


Black Beauty 


71 


when he drove in the yard, one Sat-ur-day. He was wor- 
ried, and had cause to be, for few or-ders had come to him at 
the stand that week, and to-day he had not had one call. 

He had fed and wa-tered me as he al-ways did, but had not 
ta-ken a mouth-ful of the din-ner Dol-ly brought him. Just 
be-fore he drove home, he gave it to a rag-ged news-boy. “I 
must not let Pol-ly see I could not eat it,” he said to him- 
self. “Poor girl! It looks as if we were com-ing to hard 
times, and all just be-cause I will not work for men on God’s 
Day.” 

“No, Jer-ry,” said Pol-ly, “you must not think of such a 
thing. If my hus-band should prove un-true to his princi- 
ples, I would be a-shamed of him.” 

“It is of you and the chil-dren I must think,” re-turned 
Jer-ry; “it is hard for a man who is a-ble to work to be i-dle 
for sake of a prin-ci-ple. ” 

‘ 6 I know it, ’ ’ re-plied Pol-ly. ‘ ‘ But the Bi-ble says : i God 
is our ref-uge and strength; a ver-y pres-ent help in time of 
troub-le;’ and if we trust Him and o-bey His com-mand- 
ments, He will find a way. No, Jer-ry, you must not think 
of work-ing on the Lord’s Day. And what would the day 
be to Dol-ly and Har-ry and me with f a-ther a- way from us ? 
The sweet day is too short now for us ; it would not seem like 
Sun-day if you were at work.” 

Mr. Bar-ker combed, brushed and fed us Sun-day morn- 
ing, took care of us noon and eve-ning, but all day the home 
was qui-et and still. The fam-i-ly walked to church near by, 
and in the eve-ning we could hear them sing-ing and Jer-ry 
read-ing in a pleas-ant voice ; then it did not sound like read- 
ing, and for a while they were si-lent ; and a-gain, all were talk- 
ing pleas-ant-ly. The last thing at night our mas-ter would 
come out to see us and oft-en he would say, “Well, my hard- 


72 


Black Beauty 


work-ing friends, a new week be-gins for you to-mor-row, 
but to-day you have bad the rest that be-longs to you.” 

Busi-ness was dull for sev-er-al weeks, but Jer-ry was 
cheer-ful and made no more com-plaints to Pol-ly. I think 
my mas-ter’s wife did much to make him such a good man. 
I know how eas-y it is for me to pull a heav-y load or trot 
long miles when I have a good mate in har-ness with me. But 
a mate that will not trot in step, that starts a-head and then 
stops when I pull, or finds fault with the way mas-ter drives, 
makes hard work, and I am glad when that horse is not har- 
nessed with me. Per-haps it is the same with hus-band and 
wife. I am sure Jer-ry had a good mate. 

CHAPTER 30 

A NEW PA-TRON 

Dol-ly brought Jer-ry ’s din-ner to him eve-ry noon; her 
moth-er sent a jar of hot tea, bread and but-ter and other 
things in a neat bas-ket ; and while I had my oats, she would 
sit on the box with him while he ate his lunch. They made 
a pleas-ant pic-ture ; the lit-tle girl smi-ling and chat-ting to 
him, Jer-ry laugh-ing at things she would say. 

At such a time, a gen-tle-man I had oft-en seen pass that 
way came to the cab. In a mo-ment J er-ry was ta-king Dol-ly 
from the box, get-ting read-y for his fare; but the gen-tle- 
man stopped him. 

“Do not hur-ry,” he said, “I want to talk with you aft-er 
you have eat-en. I will sit in the cab un-til you have fin- 
ished.” But Jer-ry was not slow that day; he soon sent 
Dol-ly on her way, had my bri-dle on, and was at the cab 
door to hear what his vis-it-or had to say. 


Black Beauty 


73 


“My name is Mr. War-ner. I oft-en see you here at noon. 
Your lit-tle girl seems fond of you.” 

“She is just like her moth-er,” re-plied Jer-ry, “and a bet- 
ter moth-er no child ev-er had; hut what can I do for you, 
sir?” he ad-ded, won-der-ing what Mr. War-ner had in his 
mind. 

“I have two daugh-ters at-tend-ing pri-vate school. It is 
a long dis-tance for them to walk ; there are some oth-er chil- 
dren liv-ing near us who would go with them if they could 
ride. We want a good man in whose care we can trust our 
chil-dren to take them to school, call for them at re-cess, take 
them back for the sec-ond ses-sion and bring them home at 
close of school. Can you ar-range to do it for us ?” 

My mas-ter was pleased, I know. A fair price was a-greed 
on, but Jer-ry said, “I hope, sir, there is to be no driv-ing out 
on Sun-day, for I do not take my team out of the sta-ble on 
that day . 9 9 

“In-deed, no,” re-spond-ed Mr. War-ner; “we do not be- 
lieve in Sun-day work at my home.” 

“No more do I,” said Jer-ry, and then he told how he had 
lost busi-ness by re-fu-sing Sun-day or-ders. 

“You are the man I want,” said Mr. War-ner, “and I have 
man-y friends who will be glad to use your cab, when it is not 
in use for the chil-dren.” 

When Jer-ry reached home that night, tears came in his 
eyes as he told Pol-ly the good news. Har-ry tossed his cap 
in the air and Dol-ly danced with glee. It was not long be- 
fore our mas-ter had all the work he could take care of ; made 
more mon-ey than be-fore. We were al-ways fresh for our 
work, his cab clean, and him-self cheer- f ul ; all in great con- 
trast to the cabs and teams of men who worked sev-en days 
in a week, and gave no heed to God’s com-mand-ment. 


74 


Black Beauty 


CHAPTER 31 

A DEED OF KIND-XESS 

There came a time when w T e had Sun-day work. Let me 
tell how it hap-pened. We had come home one Sat-ur-day 
night, ver-y tir-ed, and glad the next day would be all rest. 
There was no school on Sat-ur-day but on that day the moth- 
ers of the chil-dren would go shop-ping, and no one but J er-ry 
could take them out. We were in har-ness all day long; but 
that was not the hard-est part. We were com-pelled to stand 
so long in front of the stores, or drive slow-ly up and down, 
wait-ing for the la-dies to come out. Some-times a clerk 
would come with them to the cab, car-ry-ing a big par-cel, 
but more oft-en they would have noth-ing with them, and 
would stand and talk a long time at the cab door, be-fore 
they would de-cide where next to drive. Jer-ry did not seem 
to mind it, but I oft-en got quite worn out, not know-ing what 
it meant ; my mate felt the same. 

As u-su-al Pol-ly greet-ed us when we came in the yard 
that night. Jerry told of the long day’s work we had had. 

“The shops were crowd-ed, Pol-ly; such a lot of pri-vate 
turn-outs I have not seen for a long time, and the la-dies were 
push-ing and crowd-ing each oth-er to get in-to the stores.. 
It may be fine a-muse-ment for them, but the poor clerks 
must have been glad when the long day was o-ver. Most of 
the la-dies just seemed to be go-ing from one shop to an- 
oth-er, look-ing a-round. I thought when they went shop- 
ping they bought things.” 

Pol-ly laughed. “When the la-dies do that, they are out 
buy-ing. With all the stores show-ing goods, how would they 


Black Beauty 


75 


know where to get the best, if they did not look in at all? 
They al-ways do their shop-ping a long time be-fore they buy. 
But, of course, how should my dear old Jer-ry know a-bout 
that, when he is just look-ing out for us at home, nev-er think- 
ing of what the rest of the world is do-ing ? 

“But, Jer-ry, I have a mes-sage for you. Poor Di-nah 
Brown has just had a let-ter tell-ing of her moth-er’s ill-ness, 
and that if she would see her a-live she must go to her in the 
morn-ing. It is ten miles from here and in the coun-try. 
Of course, she can-not walk there, and there are no pub-lic 
con-vey-an-ces. She must hire, and wants you to take her.” 

J er-ry hes-i-ta-ted. 

‘ ‘ She prom-is-es to pay you well, if you will take her. If she 
takes the train, she still has four miles to walk and with her 
little four-weeks-old in-fant that would be im-pos-si-ble, you 
know.” 

“Oh, it is not the mon-ey I am think-ing of, but of los-ing 
our Sun-day. We are all tir-ed out to-night; it has been a 
hard day for man and hors-es ; if they could speak, Speed and 
Ro-ver would sure-ly say they had hoped for rest, as well 
as I.” 

“Well, Jer-ry, the chil-dren and I have looked for- ward 
all the week to have you home with us, and we are as dis-ap- 
point-ed as you. But we should do to oth-ers as we would be 
done by; just put your-self in poor Di-nah ’s place and I know 
you will de-cide a-right. ’ ’ 

“You are a dear lit-tle min-is-ter,” said Jer-ry; “you have 
giv-en me a good ser-mon in few words. Tell Mrs. Brown to 
be watch-ing for me at nine o ’-clock to-mor-row. I’ll go see 
if I can bor-row a light two horse trap for the day.” And so 
it was set-tied. 

It was a love-ly day in May, and be-cause of the good care 


76 


Black Beauty 


our mas-ter gave us, we en- joyed the fresh air of the coun- 
try as. much as did he and his pas-sen-gers, Di-nah and her 
ba-by. The smell of the fresh grass, the soft coun-try roads, 
were as pleas-ant to me as in the old times, and the light 
wag-on to which we were har-nessed was no bur-den at all for 
us. Rov-er, who had been raised in a barn, not in the green 
fields as had I, was de-light-ed and asked me all kinds of ques- 
tions as we sped a-long. In-deed, be-fore we knew it, we were 
at our jour-ney’s end. Di-nah ’s moth-er lived in a small 
farm-house, up a green lane, close by a mead-ow with some 
sha-dy trees. Her broth-er had Jer-ry put us in this mead-ow, 
and no two boys free from school ev-er en- joyed them-selves 
as we did. And Jer-ry, who had brought his din-ner with 
him, af-ter eat-ing it, rest-ed un-der a tree near us. He 
seemed hap-py, too — sang to him-self, read out of a lit-tle 
book, and lis-tened to the birds sing-ing in the warm sun- 
shine. Jer-ry took the har-ness off us, and laughed to see 
us roll and en-joy our-selves like two colts. But we were 
quite will-ing to let him make us read-y for the trip home, 
aft-er a feed of oats and a drink from the brook. Our mas- 
ter gath-ered a large bunch of wild flow-ers, ta-king it with 
him in the wag-on. Mrs. Brown was hap-py for her moth-er 
was bet-ter since the vis-it and the doc-tor thought she would 
soon be well. 

When we reached her home, she took out her purse to pay 
J er-ry. 

“Please, no,” said our mas-ter; “it has been a de-light-ful 
trip for us; and we do not work on Sun-days. My Pol-ly 
knows why I took you to your moth-er ’s. It was not for the 
mon-ey you would give.” 

Jer-ry ’s first words to Pol-ly were: “Well, my dear, I 
did not lose my Sun-day aft-er all ; for the birds were sing- 


Black Beauty 


77 


ing hymns in eve-ry bush and I joined them; and as for Speed 
and Ro-ver, they were like a pair of colts.” Then he gave 
the flow-ers to Dol-ly, and she, too, was hap-py. 

“Fol-low-ing the Gold-en Rule has giv-en us all a hap-py 
Sun-day,” said Jer-ry. 


CHAPTER 32 

WAIT-ING IN THE COLD 



IT WAS COLD AND SLEET-ING. 

Christ-mas and New Year bring pleas-ure to man-y peo-ple, 
but to cab-men and their pa-tient hors-es the sea-son brings 
work and wait-ing all day long, and some-times far in-to the 
night. 


78 


Black Beauty 


Oft-en driv-er and horse must stand for hours in front of 
some grand man-sion or place of a-muse-ment, wait-ing for 
those who or-dered the cab to make their ap-pear-ance. In 
storm or frost we must wait, un-til the man is chilled, the 
horse stifl-ened by the cold. If they think of us they say, 
“Oh, let them wait. We can pay for it!” But there are 
some things that nev-er can be paid for. Sick-ness that ends 
in death, or ru-ined health of man or beast are some of them. 

Just a lit-tle thought for oth-ers would do so much to make 
life hap-py for us who must do as we are bid-den, though 
we suf-fer for it. If those who or-der the cab-man at a cer- 
tain hour would but think of him and his horse, out-side in 
the cold, and not keep us wait-ing as they do, life would be 
bright-er for us, and per-haps they would be hap-pi-er. 

There was much of this wait-ing work all Christ-mas week, 
and Jer-ry ’s cough was bad. Pol-ly would wait up for him, 
and meet us with the lan-tern, no mat-ter how late it was. 

On New Year’s Eve, he took two gen-tle-men to a card 
par-ty, and was told to call for them prompt-ly at e-lev-en; 
he might have to wait a few min-utes, but must be on time. 

As the clock struck, we were at the door. Jer-ry was 
prompt to keep an en-gage-ment. He rang the door-bell and 
was told to wait. As it was cold and sleet-ing, he threw an 
ex-tra blan-ket on us, and in his great-coat walked up and 
down by the cab. Soon he got in-side for shel-ter from the 
wind, but we could hear him cough. If a horse ev-er wor- 
ries a-bout his mas-ter, I did that night. Twelve o ’-clock 
came, and Jer-ry in-quired if he would be want-ed that night. 

“Oh, yes,” said the ser-vant, “They will soon be com-ing 
out now. You must not go a-way.” 

It was aft-er one be-fore the gen-tle-men came, and we 
had a drive of three miles to their home. When they left 


Black Beauty 


79 


the cab they found fault be-cause Jer-ry made them pay for 
the time he wait-ed for them ; but the law al-lowed him to do 
that. They want-ed to quar-rel, but poor Jer-ry was too 
hoarse to an-swer them, and when he got on the box to drive 
us home, he could but whis-per, “Hur-ry home, now!” 

At last he got home, a real-ly sick man. Pol-ly met him 
with the lan-tern. 

“What can I do for you, my dear? Shall I make you some 
hot lem-on-ade?” 

Jer-ry said, “Yes,” but first to get hot wa-ter for us; 
“They, too, have had a hard night of it,” he said. He fed 
and took care of us for the night, though in-deed it was now 
near morn-ing. Pol-ly came with the hot feed and it made 
us com-fort-a-ble ; soon they locked the door and went a-way. 

Har-ry came to us late in the morn-ing, did the sta-ble work, 
fed and wa-tered us through the day; he did this sev-er-al 
days. At last the men at the cab-stand who knew Jer-ry 
came and drove us out for ex-er-cise, and from what Dol-ly 
said to Har-ry, we knew our good mas-ter was ad-vised by 
his doc-tor to rest for a long time. 

“But if Mrs. Fowl-er, the kind la-dy who sent us that 
mon-ey the day she met fa-ther, has us come to her place to 
live, you and I will have to work, Har-ry, and we will help 
take care of fa-ther un-til he is strong a-gain. Moth-er says 
I can get a place as nurse-girl, and Mrs. Fowl-er wants you 
as a gar-den-er.” 

“I am glad we will be a-ble to help fa-ther; he has been so 
good to us all our lives,” said Har-ry. 


80 


Black Beauty 


CHAPTER 33 

AN-OTH-ER MAS-TEB 

I be-gan to won-der what would be-come of me now\ This 
place had been a good home ; the work was hard, but the kind- 
ness of Mr. Bar-ker had made me as con-tent-ed as when at 
Gor-don Park. He had ta-ken such good care of me, my lame- 
ness had been near-ly cured, but a hard cough had set-tied on 
my lungs since that New Year’s Eve, from the long wait in 
the storm, and with Jer-ry sick, I could not get the prompt 
at-ten-tion he would have given me. Jer-ry sold his cab and 
my mate, Ro-ver, to men at the cab stand, but though they 
want-ed me too, he said I was too good a horse for cab work 
in oth-er hands, and he was go-ing to find bet-ter work for me. 

I was sold to a friend of Mr. Bar-ker ’s, a deal-er in grain 
and feed. This man did a large busi-ness, but had one-horse 
wag-ons on-ly. I think there were nine, and they were kept 
go-ing all the time. He fed us well, for our strength had 
to be kept up, and there are few one-horse wag-ons that do 
not hold more than a load for one horse. He left this part 
of the work in care of a fore-man, who must see that all or- 
ders were de-liv-ered the same day. This made late work 
and big loads. I am sure J er-ry did not know this when he 
sold me; if he had he would have trust-ed me to the cab- 
men, I am sure. Yet, aft-er all, the life of a horse is hard, 
and all de-pends up-on his mas-ter wheth-er it be made en- 
dur-a-ble or just a con-stant drudg-er-y. 

An-drew, my driv-er, oft-en said I could not take so much, 
but like the oth-er team-sters had to do as the fore-man or- 
dered. This man was al-ways hur-ry-ing and push-ing the 


Black Beauty 


81 


work. “No use go-ing twice, when once will do,” lie would 
say, and an-otk-er bar-rel and sev-er-al sacks of flour or feed 
would be add-ed to my load. These loads were made heav-i-er 
for me by my driv-er, who thought he must fol-low the fash- 
ion a-mong team-sters of us-ing the high check-rein. This 
pre- vented me from pull-ing eas-i-ly, and in a few months I 
found the work was tell-ing on my strength. 

You would think a man watch-ing his horse strain-ing with 
a big load would see how with head held up the most will-ing 
an-i-mal could not throw all his weight a-gainst the pad-ded 
har-ness collar, made just for that pur-pose. But An-drew 
did not seem to no-tice it. One day with an o-ver-load-ed 
wag-on I had to stop oft-en, as part of the road was up a 
steep hill. Then it was hard to hold the wag-on from go-ing 
back- ward. This did not please An-drew, who, whip-ping me, 
shout-ed: “Get a-long, you la-zy brute, or IT1 make you!” 
I strug-gled on a few feet; the whip came down, and a-gain 
I moved for-ward. The whip not on-ly hurt my sides and 
back, but my mind too. Here I was, do-ing my best, yet 
pun-ished and a-bused. It seemed to take all the life out of 
me. I thought I should drop to the ground. An-drew 
whipped me again, more cru-el-ly than at first. 


CHAPTER 34 

A FA-MIL-IAR VOICE 

Just then a la-dy step-ped up to An-drew, and in a sweet, 
earn-est voice said: 

“Oh, sir, please do not whip your horse! I am sure he 
does his best, but the road is steep and his load is heav-y.” 


82 


Black Beauty 


“If do-ing his best will not get this load up, then he must 
do bet-ter than his best,” said An-drew. 

“But has he not too big a load?” 

“Yes, la-dy, he has, but that is not my fault. The fore- 
man would have it all on to save time and trou-ble and an 
ex-tra trip; I must get it up this hill the best way I can.” 

He was a-bout to bring the whip down on me a-gain, when 
the la-dy gent-ly touched his arm and said : 

“Please stop! I think I can help you, if you will let me. 
You do not give your horse a fair chance. He can-not use 
all his pow-er with his head held up by that check-rein. Take 
it off, and see what he can do then. Try it, please ; I do not 
think you are real-ly a cru-el driv-er.” 

An-drew laughed. “Well, I’ll do it to please you, la-dy. 
But all our driv-ers use the check-rein. It is the fash-ion 
with them, and they would laugh at me if I did not use one.” 

Now he took off the rein, and I could put my head down 
to my knees. How nice it felt ! Then I tossed my head up 
and down to get the stiff-ness out of my neck. 

“Poor horse! that is what he want-ed,” she said, pat-ting 
me; “and now if you will lead him and speak to him kind-ly, 
I think he can do bet-ter.” 

An-drew took the reins. “Gome on, Black-ie!” And low- 
er-ing my head, put-ting all my weight a-gainst the col-lar, 
I pushed and pulled with all my strength. The load moved 
stead-i-ly up the hill; there I stopped to take breath. The 
la-dy now came to me a-gain. Strok-ing my neck, she said : 

“He is a will-ing horse and fine tem-pered. No doubt he 
has seen bet-ter days. He looks like a horse I once owned. 
You will not put that rein on him a-gain, will you?” 

“Well, la-dy, you know what they will say if I drive with- 
out it when it is the fash-ion for us to use it. But I know that 


Black Beauty 


83 


with the check on he could not have pulled this load up 
the hill, and I’ll prom-ise to take it off when he comes to a 
hill.” 

“ Thank you,” said the la-dy. “That is some-thing. But 
I think it would be bet-ter if you led a good fash-ion in-stead 
of a bad one. We do not use the high check on our car-riage 
hors-es now. Be-sides we have no right to dis-tress God’s 
crea-tures. They can not tell us how they feel, but they do 
not suf-fer less be-cause they must bear it in si-lence. But I 
will not de-tain you from your work. I thank you for try- 
ing my plan with your good horse. I am sure you will find 
it far bet-ter than the whip. Good day!” and with an-oth-er 
soft pat on my neck, she stepped to the walk and soon dis- 
appeared on a side street. 

“That is a real la-dy,” said An-drew, “she spoke as po-lite 
to me as if I was a gen-tle-man. I’ll try her plan; at least 
I’ll let out the rein so it will not check Black-ie so high.” 

Aft-er that, when go-ing up hill he al-ways took off the rein, 
and we had no more trou-ble, though some-times the load 
was just all I could pull. Soon he be-gan talk-ing to the 
men; show-ing them why it was bet-ter for the horse to go 
with-out the check-rein, and be-fore long An-drew and I had 
the fash-ion all the oth-er way. And one brave la-dy had ac- 
complished the change. 

When she said I was like a horse she once owned, I had 
looked but could not re-mem-ber her, though I seemed to 
know the voice. 

An-drew gave me good care in the sta-ble. I was al-lowed 
plen-ty of good food; in-deed, all of Mr. Wil-liam’s hors-es 
were well fed be-cause the work was hard and a horse needs 
oats and chopped feed in plen-ty if he must pull big loads 
ove-ry day. But e-ven the best of care does not count much 


84 


Black Beauty 


a-gainst the strain of o-ver load-ing, es-pe-cial-ly of a horse 
not fit-ted by na-ture for the work. 

There is as much dif-fer-ence in the strength of hors-es as 
of men. Look at the ra-cer, then at the cart horse ; you will 
see what I mean. It would be cru-el to ask the ra-cer to pull 
a load-ed wag-on, or the cart horse to run a race. With men, 
it is, “each man to his trade so with us it should be, “eve-ry 
horse to the work for which he is fit-ted.” But all too oft-en 
the light built horse, trained for speed, is in his old age put 
at the work of a cart horse; and hard in-deed is his fate. No 
a-mount of feed-ing and care can keep him from break-ing 
down. And thus it was with me. 

There was yet an-oth-er cause at work to in-jure me. The 
sta-ble was bad-ly light-ed; just one small win-dow at one 
end; and when I was led out, the glare of sun-light would 
blind me. Oft-en I would trip in the door-way, not see-ing 
where I was go-ing. This had a de-press-ing ef-fect on my 
spir-its, for you may be sure a horse dreads go-ing blind, as 
would you. But I es-caped this fate, be-ing sold to a large 
cab-own-er. Yet it had been bet-ter for me had I gone blind. 

CHAPTER 35 

NICH-O-LAS SKIN-NER 

I shall not for-get this new mas-ter, Nich-o-las Skin-ner. 
His voice was harsh and rasp-ing, like the file the black-smith 
u-ses on my hoofs. He had black, bead-like eyes, a hooked 
nose, a mouth like a bull-dog’s ; hand and foot was ev-er quick 
to strike or kick the poor horse that moved too slow to please 
him. He seemed to glo-ry in the fact of his pow-er o-ver us ; 
and the gent-ler and bet-ter bred horse was the one he seemed 
most to ill use. He had dir-ty cabs and a low set of dri-vers. 


Black Beauty 


85 


He was as hard on his men as he was harsh to ns, and the men, 
when out of his sight, did as they chose with us. 

Here it was work sev-en days in the week ; of t-en late in-to 
the night. No Sun-day rest; and as it was mid-sum-mer 
when he bought me, the hot weath-er add-ed to my suffer- 
ing. All his cabs were for one horse, so I nev-er had a mate 
to share my work. 

Oft-en on a Sun-day morn-ing, a par-ty of rough men would 
hire the cab for all day ; four in-side, one on the seat with the 
dri-ver, made a load of six for me, and ten or fif-teen miles 
must I take them. Up or down hill, it was all the same to 
them ; not one would ev-er think of get-ting out and walk-ing, 
while I tugged in the shafts, or strained to hold back the load 
that would run me off my feet should I trot down hill. I 
would be so worn out at night, I could hard-ly eat. Then 
ear-ly Mon-day morn-ing I must go to the cab-stand. It was 
work, work, work, for eve-ry horse that Nich-o-las Skin-ner 
owned. 

I be-gan to wish I was dead and out of my mis-er-y. I, 
Black Beau-ty, who had al-ways been hope-ful and good na- 
tured, pa-tient and will-ing, now be-gan to know what de- 
spair could mean. You see I was fast break-ing down. Do 
you won-der at it ? 

One day my wish al-most came true. It was on a Mon-day 
morn-ing aft-er just such a hard Sun-day as I have de-scribed. 
I went on the cab stand at sev-en o ’-clock. My dri-ver kept 
me go-ing; all his fares were in a hur-ry, and by dri-ving fast 
he oft-en got an ex-tra shil-ling for him-self. Then we had 
a pas-sen-ger for the train, and my driv-er wait-ed for a re- 
turn fare as an-oth-er train was due. When it ar-rived, pas- 
sen-gers came hur-ry-ing for the bet-ter cabs, and soon all but 
mine were gone. Up came a par-ty of four; a blus-ter-ing 


8(5 


Black Beauty 


man, a la-dy, a small boy and a young girl, with a lot of lug- 
gage. The la-dy and boy got in-to the cab; while the man 
or-dered a-bout the lug-gage, the young girl came and looked 
at me. 

“I am sure, pa-pa, this poor horse can not take us and our 
lug-gage so far. He is too weak and so worn out ; do look at 
him, please.” 

“He’s all right, miss,” said my dri-ver; but the man who 
brought up the lug-gage sug-gest-ed a sec-ond cab. 

“Can your horse do it?” asked the gen-tle-man. 

“Sure he can, sir! Hand up the box-es, port-er; we’ll take 
them all right.” 

The girl, whose name was Grace, plead-ed with her fath-er 
to take a sec-ond cab. “I am just sure we are do-ing wrong; 
I am sure it is wick-ed and will hurt this poor horse.” The 
tears were in her eyes as she spoke. 

“Come, come!” said her fa-ther, in a hard tone of voice; 
“the man knows his busi-ness. Get in-side now, and hold 
your tongue.” 

My gen-tle friend had to do as she was bid-den, and the 
trunks and big satch-els were put on top of the cab or at the 
dri-ver ’s side. When the big load was on, he gave the reins 
a jerk, slashed me with the whip and drove out of the sta-tion 
yard. 

CHAPTER 36 

BRO-KEN DOWN AT LAST 

I had had no food or rest since morn-ing; but I did my 
best, as I have done all my life, in spite of cru-el-ty and in- 
justice. I got on f air-ly well till we came to a hill ; then the 
load and my ex-haus-tion were too much for me. 


Black Beauty 


87 


I pulled with all my might, goad-ed by the whip and voice 
of my heart-less dri-ver. Then, in a mo-ment — I know not 
how — my feet slipped from un-der me and I fell heav-i-ly to 
the ground on my side. It seemed to knock the breath out 
of me. 

I lay per-f ect-ly still ; I had no pow-er to move ; I thought 
I was go-ing to die. There was a strange con-fu-sion all 
a-round me ; loud cross voic-es ; the get-ting down of the lug- 
gage — it was all like a dream. But I could hear a sweet voice, 
say-ing : 

“Oh, that poor horse, that poor horse! It is all our fault! 
Oh, I am so sor-ry !” 

Some one loos-ened the throat-strap of my bri-dle and un- 
hooked the tra-ces, that had kept the col-lar tight on me, and 
backed the cab a-way. 

“He’s dead! Hell nev-er get up a-gain,” said a boy in 
the crowd. Then a po-lice-man came up. “I wish he would 
shoot me and let me die right here,” I thought. I did not 
seem to have strength to o-pen my eyes. I could just draw a 
gasp-ing breath, now and then. 

Some cold wa-ter was dashed on my head; then a liq-uid 
was forced in-to my mouth and I had to swal-low it. How 
it did burn my throat ! But it did me good ; I could feel it all 
through me. Then a blan-ket was thrown o-ver me. 

I do not know how long I lay there, but by and by the life 
seemed to come back to me, and a man whose voice was kind, 
spoke to me: “Come now, old fel-low r , do try and get up on 
your feet, so I can take you to a warm bed.” And, aft-er 
some more med-i-cine was giv-en, he gave my bri-dle a gen- 
tle pull, and with two or three at-tempts, I stag-gered to my 
feet. He led me slow-ly to a sta-ble close by, put me in a 
well lit-tered stall, and gave me some warm gru-el. You can- 


88 


Black Beauty 


not think how good it was ! I looked at him and said , 6 ‘ Thank 
you,” in my own way; of course, he could not un-der-stand, 
but I could see he was glad to have helped me. 

At night I was ta-ken to Skin-ner’s sta-ble, where they let 
me rest in peace. Next morn-ing, Skin-ner came with a man 
who ex-am-ined me close-ly : 

“This is a case of o-ver-work, not dis-ease,” he said. “If 
you could let him run in the fields for six months, he would 
be a-ble to work a-gain; but now he is as weak as a ba-by.” 

“Then he may go to the bone-yard for all I care,” re-plied 
Skin-ner; “I don’t keep mead-ows to nurse sick crit-ters in. 
That sort of thing does not suit my busi-ness. I work ’em 
as long as they’ll go, and then sell ’em to the ped-lers or glue 
fac-to-ry.” 

“There’s a bar-gain sale of hors-es com-ing off in two 
weeks. If you rest him and feed him up good, he may pick 
up and you will get more than his hide’s worth at the sale.” 

So Skin-ner gave orders that I should be well fed and 
groomed. His or-ders were at-tend-ed to, and for the two 
weeks I seemed to live in lux-u-ry. Perfect rest, plen-ty of 
good oats, hay, bran mash-es with lin-seed mixed in, did me 
much good. I be-gan to think it worth while to live. 

When the sales-day came, I was tak-en to the place, feel- 
ing that a change from Skin-ner’s must be for the bet-ter; 
and so I held up my head and looked for-ward to bright-er 
days. 


CHAPTER 37 

A-MONG THE CRIP-PLES 


I found my-self a-mong a lot of old, lame and half-blind 
hors-es. It would have been kind had most of them been shot 


Black Beauty 


89 


and put out of mis-e^-y. Most of the sell-ers and buy-ers 
were not much bet-ter off than the crea-tures they were bar- 
gain-ing o-ver. There were poor men want-ing a horse for 
a few dol-lars, that could drag an old rag-ped-ler’s wag-on or 
a hand or-gan on wheels ; oth-ers try-ing to sell a poor old crip- 
ple of a horse for a bit of mon-ey, rath-er than stand the loss 
of kill-ing him. Some of these men, hard-ened by pov-er-ty, 
looked cru-el and wick-ed ; others, poor and shab-by, yet kind 
and hu-mane, had voic-es a horse could trust, and I did hope 
one of these would buy me. 

At last there came an old man and a pleas-ant faced boy. 

“Look here, grand-pa,’ ’ said the boy, “just see this nice 
black horse a-mong these old crip-ples. He looks as if he had 
been a gen-tle-man’s horse. See the kind look in his eye.” 

“Yes,” said the grand-pa, “he does look bet-ter than the 
oth-er poor beasts here. His nos-trils and ears, the shape of 
his neck and shoul-ders show high-breed-ing, ” and he pat-ted 
my neck while the boy rubbed my face. 

I looked at the boy; I want-ed to speak, but, of course, 
I could not in his lan-guage. 

“Why, he seems to un-der-stand us, grand-pa; I be-lieve 
this horse would al-most grow young a-gain with kind-ness 
and a life in the fresh coun-try air. Let’s buy him ! He does 
not look like a real-ly old horse ; he is just run down with hard 
work, I guess.” 

The man who had brought me to the sale now spoke. “Yes, 
sir, the young gen-tle-man is right. This hoss is just pulled 
down with hard work as a cab hoss. I heard the man as doc- 
tors the hoss-es'say a six month’s run in the coun-try would 
bring him up and make a new crit-ter of him. I’ve tend-ed 
him for the last two weeks and he sure-ly is the gent-lest an-i- 
mal I ev-er met. I’ll war-rant, if he gets the right care the 


90 Black Beauty 

next six months, you could sell him for four times what hell 
cost you now, sir.” 

The boy and his grand-pa moved a-way and spoke in low 
tones. I knew the boy was beg-ging him to buy me. Then 
they came back. The old gen-tle-man felt my legs ; they were 
a bit bruised and swol-len from strains. Then he looked in 
my mouth. “ About four-teen years old,” he said. “Just 
trot him out, will you?” 

I arched my neck, raised my tail and trot-ted a-round the 
yard as best I could with my stiff legs. I want-ed to make a 
good im-pres-sion and show him I was not quite a wreck. 
When I came back, Mr. Good, that was his name, said, 
“What’s the least you’ll take for him?” 

“Twenty-five dol-lars, sir! That’s the price Mr. Skin-ner 
set!” 

‘ ‘ Skin-ner is it ? Why, I know him right well ! He works 
the life out of all his hors-es. Well, I’m ta-king a chance, but 
I’ll risk it. If he comes up at all a-gain, he’s sure to sell for 
what I’m pay-ing for him.” 

Then the mon-ey was count-ed out and aft-er a good feed 
at the inn, a man rode me slow-ly home for my new mas-ter. 
Here I was turned out in-to a large field with a shed in one 
cor-ner. This shed was o-pen at one side, but rain or wind 
could not reach me when in it at night, and a lot of straw in 
one cor-ner made a fine bed for me. 


CHAPTER 38 

MR. GOOD AND WIL-LIE 


Mr. Good was just like his name. “I am go-ing to put him 
in your charge, Wil-lie,” he said to his grand-son. “You 


Black Beauty 91 

had me buy him, and now you must see that he turns out to 
be a bar-gain. ” 

Wil-lie took it quite se-ri-ous-ly ; and though the sta-ble 
man took care of me, Wil-lie came each day to see me, and 
brought me car-rots and oth-er nice dain-ties, and stood by 
me and talked to me while I ate my oats. He called me “Old 
Chum,” for I al-ways fol-lowed him a-round the field, and 
met him at the gate when he came in. He had asked the man 
who sold me what my name was, but he said he had nev-er 
heard me called any-thing but “Old Gim-let,” and he did not 
think that was my real name. 

Mr. Good oft-en came with Wil-lie to see me, and look at 
my legs. “If we can get the stiff-ness out, he will make quite 
a good horse, I think. I real-ly believe he has been some fine 
gen-tle-man’s horse in his young days.” 

The per-fect rest, good food and wa-ter, soft turf un-der 
my feet, and gen-tle ex-er-cise soon told in my fa-vor, and I 
im-proved fast. By spring I was real-ly quite like my old 
self; I had a good con-sti-tu-tion and had been well ta-ken 
care of when young. 

One day Mr. Good hitched me to the pha-e-ton, and with 
Wil-lie, drove me a few miles. My legs were not at all stiff 
now, and I trav-eled with ease. 

“See, grand-pa, Old Chum has got young a-gain! I knew 
he would when you bought him,” cried Wil-lie, in de-light. 

“He cer-tain-ly steps out well,” said Mr. Good; “he could 
not do bet-ter.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad you bought him, grand-pa, for he is just 
a dear Old Chum! I know aunt will be proud of him when 
she comes here this sum-mer, and I take her out ri-ding.” 


92 


Black Beauty 


CHAPTER 39 

A DEAR OLD FRIEND 

One day in June, when the sweet per-fume of new-mown 
hay was in the air, wrens sing-ing in the hedg-es, and larks 
tril-ling as they flew up-ward un-der the blue sky, I stood in 
a cor-ner of the field, near-est the great farm-house. I was 
think-ing of the hap-pi-ness man, who is our mas-ter, can be- 
stow up-on us, his hum-ble ser-vants, by giv-ing a kind con- 
sid-er-a-tion to our needs. They are not man-y — just food 
and wa-ter, shel-ter from storm and cold, shoes on our feet as 
we need them, the comb and brush on our bod-ies each morn- 
ing, and pleas-ant words as we work for him. Man may be 
to us a cru-el task-mas-ter, or a gen-tle friend, for he is as 
a god o-ver us and all the oth-er dumb an-i-mals un-der his 
do-min-ion. And as I thought of the mas-ters I had had — the 
kind and good, the cru-el and wick-ed — I won-dered if the 
last were not tru-ly chil-dren of Evil ; the first, the chil-dren 
of Right-eous-ness. It seemed to me this must be true, and 
as the cru-el task-mas-ters gave no thought to these things — 
if some good man or wo-man would but write the sto-ry of 
my life, it might set these un-kind ones to think-ing and lead 
them to sym-pa-thize with us in our help-less-ness and de- 
pend-ence on them. Then all men would be kind to us. 

Thus I was think-ing, per-haps dream-ing, as I half dozed 
in the warm sun-shine, when I saw Wil-lie com-ing to the 
field, a la-dy with him. He was talk-ing to her and point-ing 
to me, and she was smi-ling as he talked. 

I walked to the gate to meet my lit-tle friend, and held 
down my head that he might stroke my face and rub my ears 


Black Beauty 


93 


and with his finger tips touch the white star on my fore-head. 
The la-dy stood by him, look-ing in-tent-ly at me. 

“He won’t hurt you,” said Willie, “he just loves to be 
pet-ted, Aunt Hel-en, does Old Chum. Don’t you, old fel- 
low? We are great friends, he and I ; he’s just like his name 
to me.” 



“Where did you get him?” asked his aunt. “My fa-ther 
owned a horse like him, but sold him a-bout sev-en years 
a-go. That was not his name, but the star in his fore-head 
looks like his, and this one is black, all o-ver, just like Black 
Beau-ty. That was the name of our horse.” 

When she spoke my name, as I had known it at dear Gor- 



94 


Black Beauty 


don Park, I pricked up my ears and tried to rub my nose on 
her arm ; but she did not seem to no-tice. 

“Our horse had the fun-ni-est lit-tle white mark up un- 
der his throat, close to his jaws, it was just like a cam-el’s 
hair paint brush, laid in on the black. Look and see if Old 
Chum has this mark.” 

'You may be sure I held my head up when Wil-lie raised it 
to look. 

“Now let me try some-thing, ” said his aunt; and she 
walked to the end of the field, while Wil-lie talked and pet-ted 
me. Sud-den-ly I heard a chirp-ing sound, and a voice call- 
ing: “Black Beau-ty, Black Beau-ty — Beau-ty, Beau-ty — 
Come here, Black Beau-ty!” 

No one had ev-er called me that way but Miss Hel-en at 
Gor-don Park ; sure-ly it must be she. In-stant-ly I trot-ted 
a-cross the field to her, Wil-lie run-ning by my side, cry-ing: 

“Why, Aunt Hel-en, Old Chum knows you; just look at 
him ! ’ ’ 

How glad she was that I re-mem-bered her ; how glad to find 
that aft-er all these years she had met Black Beau-ty ! And 
now I re-mem-bered the kind la-dy who had spo-ken to the 
dri-ver, try-ing to make me pull that big load up hill with 
my head high checked. Yes ; she it was who had plead-ed with 
him, though she did not then know it was I. 


CHAPTER 40 

HOME A-GAIN 

Here then was my gen-tle mis-tress of the old days. Her 
voice was the same, if she her-self did not look just as the 
Miss Hel-en of that time, for she was stout and rud-dy 


Black Beauty 


95 


cheeked; not at all the thin young la-dy her pa-rents had 
ta-ken to It-al-y lest she die in the cli-mate of Eng-land. 

But I can-not tell all she said to me, or of me to Wil-lie. 
At last she asked him if he thought he could spare me, if 
she bought me from his grand-pa and took me home to the 
old place. 

“ In-deed I can, Aunt Hel-en,” he said; “I would be hap-py 
to know the dear horse had a good home, for grand-pa in- 
tends to sell him this sum-mer. It will be so nice to think he 
has gone to such a good home as yours.” 

And so, aft-er much pet-ting by her soft hands, and words 
of sweet kind-ness, Miss Hel-en (though that was not her 
name now) walked home with Wil-lie. 

I do not know what was said to Mr. Good, nor what she 
paid him, but I can guess he did not make the price real high 
to his wife’s niece; and in a few days, who do you sup-pose 
came for me to take me to my new old home ? Who but Jack, 
my old groom! Was he glad to see me? You should have 
heard me whin-ny with joy as he came to me in the field! 
Why, I can not tell how hap-py it made me ! 

And now in the nice box-stall in the grand barn at Gor- 
don Park, I am pass-ing the last years of my life in com- 
fort, such as rare-ly comes to a horse that has had such ups 
and downs as I. 

When Miss Hel-en, who Jack calls “Mrs. Mont-rose,” or 
“m ’la-dy,” drives me to her pha-e-ton a-long the beau-ti-ful 
coun-try roads, or to Birt-wick, to shop or vis-it, I sup-pose 
I am the hap-pi-est horse in Eng-land. In-deed, I am nev-er 
sad, ex-cept when I think of those poor hors-es, suf-fer-ing as 
I suf-fered, no kind hand to de-liv-er them out of their 
bond-age. 

Some day, I hope, there will be no cru-el men in the world, 


96 


Black Beauty 


but all will be gen-tle one to an-oth-er, and to the dumb 
brutes God has en-trust-ed to their care. Per-haps this sto-ry 
of my life may help to bring that day. Then I shall be tru-ly 
hap-py. 


BLACK BEAU-TY. 


Tie m . 













* 






















V 








M l 

. 

















. 

















H 


. 











* 


































. 













% 



* 






















.. ■ 





















































































DEC ? 1905 

























